That's My Girl
by allofmysecretfantasies
Summary: Set after Hannibal the movie. Another game of cat and mouse for Clarice and Hannibal, more running, chasing, and teasing which brings unconscious feelings and repressed memories to the surface... Rated T for language and suggestion.
1. Chapter 1: Suspension

It was two weeks after her encounter with Dr Lecter at Paul Krendler's lake house. Her wound was healing well and fast, thanks to the Doctor's handy-work. But she could not silence the pain in her mind and heart.

She lay on her bed, cold and numb. All purpose had left her life. She had given up the chance of a husband and family to her job long ago. Now she didn't even have that. That job, with the FBI who now loathed her, shamed her and abandoned her. All of her hard-work and dedication, the blood, the sweat and the tears that she shed for it, all of those sacrifices that she made for it, were now all a waste. Her chances of any come-back or further success were non-existent. She had finally reached her dead-end. The dead-end which she once believed to be impossible. She used to think that there was nothing which she could not come back from, but this, this situation was much worse than anything than she could have ever imagined.

It was even worse than when she made the decision of shooting Evelda Drumgo; a mother carrying her baby across her chest. She chose to shoot her, covering the child in her mother's blood. She chose to kill rather than to be killed. Though she had done her job exactly how the FBI had taught her, she was punished, suspended, and shamed for it. The media would not leave her alone, desperate for statements, interviews, gossip, anything that she would throw at them, like animals. They weren't interested in helping her.

_When the fox hears the rabbit scream, he comes running… but not to help._

It was the same now.

Even though she had been heavily sedated by Lecter, and unconscious for most of the time that he held her at the lake house, the newspapers were throwing accusations at Clarice. _She was his lover, she planned with Lecter, used her position in the FBI to keep him hidden, help him escape. _None were true, of course.

She was deeply hurt and angry at everyone. Angry at the FBI, herself, the world... at Dr Lecter. She had noticed previously that whenever she was distressed or in trouble, he would usually show up somewhere or send her a signal and then harm the ones who harmed her. But where was he now? She would never want him to hurt anyone, never, but she was hurt and disappointed that he had stayed silent with her recent shaming. It was the lowest that Clarice had ever been, in her job, her image, and herself. Dr Lecter was not here to rescue her like he did at Mason Verger's. Maybe he had finally given up. The silly game that he used to play with her, maybe he really was gone forever…

She shook herself. _She shouldn't be thinking like that! He is a murderer, a cannibal, a 'pure sociopath', an affectionless psychopath. There were plenty of bodies to prove it._ She knew of his crimes, every single one of them, she had studied them for hours on end, sometimes through the night with no sleep. But she could not help wondering what made him the way that he was. Was he born angry? Or was he made angry? Clarice knew that beneath that sly and intimidating exterior, there was a man with a history, and she wanted to know it.

Clarice did not want to think. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to get away from it all, even if only for a couple of hours. She wanted to escape to somewhere where she was not watched or shamed or harassed. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her mind. Her thoughts fell silent, her worries were hushed, and she fell into a deep slumber…

Clarice was not granted the sound sleep that she so desperately wanted and needed; instead, an all-too-familiar voice teased and taunted her.

_Will you stay with me in my prison cell and hold my hand? __We could have some fun…_

Clarice was awoken by the sound of late-night television; she had fallen into a deep sleep on the couch after ending another meaningless day with a familiar voice thumping in her head. She switched it off and sat up lazily, struggling to gain the will-power to get up. She hadn't been outside in days. It was much too dark for her to go out now and she would have to shower, change and get ready first anyway and it seems impossible to her.

She looked around at the dull, poorly-decorated room which, like the rest of her dreary house, she had neglected for years because of her hectic work schedule. If there was any time to fix the place up it would be now, after all, she had nothing better to do.

She was usually very organized and neat but she couldn't care less about the state of her house, she was much too bothered about the state of her life. The room was littered with dirty plates, paper work and letters which she had forgotten about. She rummaged through them, sighing, bills… bills… more bills…

Clarice dropped the white letter which she was holding in shock. That neat writing in the dark black ink, the expensive paper with that familiar ambergris and Tennessee lavender scent, the thick wax on the back of it…

"Dr Lecter?" she whispered to herself, anticipation in her voice. She picked it up and turned it in her hands over and over again, feeling the rich paper. This was what she had been waiting for. She frowned, staring down at the crisp white envelope, starting to question whether she actually wanted to open it, to read his words, to hear that familiar voice in her head again.

She was at the lowest point in her career. She needed something which could help her rise above it and regain her success. Was this that something? She didn't know if she had the energy to play his little game again, but her lust for success had turned into a hunger, which she needed to satisfy.

She did not bother with the gloves this time, there was no point looking for fingerprints, she knew that it was him. She ripped the envelope open and grasped the thick folded paper, carefully opening it up, getting ready for Dr Lecter to creep back into her mind.

"_Dear Clarice,_

_I have been eagerly watching the course of your recent dishonour, you naughty, naughty girl. Assisting the infamous 'Hannibal the Cannibal', Clarice? That's not like you, ex-special agent. I imagine that you are desperately searching for a way to cleanse your reputation, Clarice, and I know that even though you have been stripped of your duties, you would never abandon them. I am giving you one last chance to redeem yourself, Clarice, one last chance to catch me, to finally please your Mommy and Daddy. You know me quite well now Clarice, you know that I too often say what I am thinking. So listen up, now._

_Why don't you start from the beginning? _

_Approach me in a different way, Clarice._

_Make your way back up to the FBI. I shall give you one last piece of advice now, Clarice. _

_Do what you do best; study the smallest details, as though viewing everything through a magnifying glass._

_Your old pal, Hannibal Lecter, M.D._

_P.S. Remember the rules, Clarice. You don't want to make the same mistake twice._

_Tata, H."_

Clarice stared into the letter, "I too often say what I am thinking. So listen up, now". She repeated the words in her head; somewhere in that letter he had told her his whereabouts, or where to find the next clue. It had to be in those four lines, or else why would he structure it like that?

When she read them, she felt like she could see him, she felt what he was telling her but she couldn't put it all together. There was something about those lines, something in there was familiar to her, and he knew what it was, that's why he included it, but what was it? Was it something that he had said to her before in one of their talks, or something she had said to him?

And what rules was he talking about? What mistake? She sat analysing the letter for hours, checking and rechecking possible word or letter patterns, anagrams and code-words, until the sun rose and she realised that she was getting nowhere.

She threw the letter onto the table, and sat back and stared at the ceiling. She knew that she wouldn't stop now, until she beats him at his own game. She looked at her hands; they were dirty from the papers she had been looking through and the ink from the various pens that she had used scribbling notes, and her hair was greasy and knotted.

Now she had something to focus on. Something which could help her get her job back, she had a duty to perform. She stood up and stretched, showered, organised her notes and ate. She was ready, now.

Clarice was clean, fed and organised.

She picked up the letter and stared at it once more.


	2. Chapter 2: Remember the Rules

'_Why don't you start from the beginning? _

_Approach me in a different way, Clarice._

_Make your way back up to the FBI. I shall give you one last piece of advice now, ex-special agent. _

_Do what you do best; study the smallest details, as though viewing everything through a magnifying glass._

_P.S. Remember the rules, Clarice. You don't want to make the same mistake twice.'_

"Where are you, Doctor?" Clarice muttered to herself, still staring at his elegant hand-writing. She had dug up all of the files and photographs that she collected when she was searching for him the first time, and laid them out on her coffee table. She looked at his victims, they included the nurse whom he attacked after he complained of chest pains and his restraints were removed, he had managed to tear out her eye and dislocate her jaw. Then, there was Mason Verger, now deceased, Lecter convinced him to peel off his own face with a piece of broken glass and then snapped his neck and left him to die.

She looked upon the photographs carefully and slowly, her pale blue eyes hovering above each one for a few minutes. Dr Lecter had before said that whenever feasible, he preferred to eat the rude, he called them 'free-range rude'. She could understand it in the case of Mason Verger, as he was a paedophile. But the nurse? Clarice had watched the tape and she was not rude to him, merely doing her job.

The photos sent chills throughout her, making the hairs on her body stand on end, her confusion pulsing with disgust. She would never understand Dr Lecter. She didn't have to; she just had to find him.

She read and re-read those lines. All that she needed was there, if only she could put it all together.

Knowing Dr Lecter, whatever it was that she had to find, it was important to her or the both of them, so it was probably something that he said to her, or she said to him. A phrase or quote, a location maybe.

She thought back to the first time that they had met. She remembered walking past those cells, trying not to look at the mad men that inhabited them, some of them hissing or spiting at her, reaching out from behind their bars to touch her and grab at her clothes. She remembered reaching the last cell, and meeting the most dangerous mad man of them all. She remembered seeing him for the first time, standing there silently, with that sly grin on his face, his eyes watching her. She was terrified of him.

Her most vivid memory from that encounter were his eyes, they were the scariest thing about him, they saw through her instantly. They were blue with hints of red that thrived in the light. She only noticed how unique they were when he asked her to move forwards to show him her ID. She realised that she never actually obeyed any of the rules that Chilton told her to, and she should have, because that's what got her into the position that she was in. She told him about her personal life, she let him get inside of her head, she passed him things, and she approached the glass.

Clarice dropped the letter onto the floor. That was it. The rules that Dr Lecter mentioned in the letter, they were the rules that Chilton had explained to her before their first meeting.

Clarice snatched he letter up and re-read the first line. _'Why don't you start from the beginning'_ There was nothing distinctive about the words there, maybe the 'beginning' referred to their first meeting.

'_Approach me in a different way, Clarice'_ She stared at the words, that was it, the 'approach''

'_Make your way back up to the FBI' _Clarice could not find anything of any importance in words in the line, she moved on to the next.

'_Do what you do best; study the smallest details, as though viewing everything through a magnifying glass' _Trying to link the words in the line to the rules, she identified 'glass'.

Clarice looked up from the letter; she had 'approach' and 'glass'. It was obvious now, she looked back at the first line and recognised 'don't', as in 'do not', and in the third line, there was 'the'. She had it.

'Do not approach the glass'

Dr Lecter was gesturing towards the first time that they had met at Baltimore asylum. Clarice squinted and tilted her head, Baltimore Asylum was now closed down and neglected, was that really where Dr Lecter would be hiding? She had before imagined him in a five-star hotel somewhere sunny. He wouldn't have made it that easy, there has to be something else.

Clarice stood up, she didn't think at all, she grabbed one of her own guns, a flashlight, the letter and got into her car. She didn't think twice about informing her 'colleagues' about the letter, Dr Lecter was _hers_. She made her way to Baltimore Asylum.

It was almost dark when Clarice reached the asylum, the sky was a dark purple and the moon shone bright. Though it was dark and there were hardly any clouds above, it was freezing cold and the wind sent the trees hissing at Clarice as she drove through them, all of them standing tall and straight high above her.

The asylum was completely neglected and deserted. The once brown bricks were now a greyish colour, the stone steps were cracked and crumbling and the heavy door howled when she struggled to push it open as it hadn't been touched in years. Though there were no criminal mad-men in there this time, she was even more terrified than before. The lights did not work, and there were no locks on any of the doors.

She made her way down to that familiar corridor where they had met for the very first time. When she reached the bottom of the steps she couldn't help but stand there for a few minutes, looking out for any lunatics that were left behind. The steps were cluttered with abandoned files and paperwork and the corridor was the same. Dusty cobwebs hung from the ceiling all the way down the floor like blankets, rippling and swaying as Clarice walked past them.

The air was bitter and deadly silent and each footstep caused an echo to travel down the motionless hall. The cell doors were wide open; they were all empty and all silent.

Clarice could feel the madness that had once inhabited the cells that she walked past. She could see the screams smeared onto the air and the insanity embedded into the walls. She found it unbearable to imagine being there for as long as Dr Lecter did.

She kept hold of the torch in one hand and pulled her denim jacket tighter around her with the other. Her long auburn hair was tied back, moving gracefully as she moved, the only hint of colour in the dead hallway.

With each step towards the last cell she felt her heart beat get faster and faster, she felt the cold sweat trickle down her back and face, soaking her clothing and making her exposed skin shine with the light from the torch, her stomach filling with a shapeless dread.

She finally reached the end and looked up hesitantly. Her heart sunk deep within her. Grasping at her chest and sighing loudly, she hunched over and closed her eyes tight. The sight of the empty cell sent despair flowing throughout her body, making her head throb and her stomach flip. She was glad to see all of the other cells empty, but not this one.

She resented and hated herself. She knew that she would have felt a lot safer if he _was_ there, behind the glass. It was strange, for the first time that she had seen him there behind the glass, she would have done anything to get rid of him, but now she wanted him there. She wondered if this was why Dr Lecter lured her there, because he knew how she would feel and he wanted her to realise it herself. Or maybe he just wanted her to suffer.

She stood up straight and breathed in and out deeply, collecting herself. _She did not have the time for this, she was playing his game now, and she needed to focus._

The huge pane of glass which once separated them was shifted to the left, leaving a small gap big enough for someone to squeeze through. She took a small step into the cell.

There were traces of him left in the air, swirling around her body, in and out of her clothing, gliding across her skin and weaving through her hair, like ghosts. She could feel him there. The atmosphere that he left behind intimidated her, as though he was there with her.

Like the rest of the asylum, the cell had nothing except discarded paper work and old furniture bolted down to the floor. She shone the light upon the floor, shifting paper work with her feet as she walked. Her attention was brought to Dr Lecter's battered desk. There was a piece of paper unlike the rest, it was whiter and crisper, and had been folded neatly, it sat on top of many discoloured ones. She reached out and picked it up carefully, shining the flashlight upon it. As she unfolded it, she noticed her name in that familiar stylish hand-writing.

"_Well hello again, Clarice_

_I see that you have unravelled my little riddle, good girl. You're almost there now Clarice, don't give up._

_Won't you join me for one last drink? Same time, same place._

_See you soon, H."_

She looked up in a state of confusion.

"One last drink?" She asked out loud.

She folded the letter, placed it in her pocket and walked back towards the cell opening. She stopped before leaving, turning and scanning the floor with the flashlight once more, making sure that she hadn't missed anything. She took a small step to her left and picked up a piece of thick rolled-up paper. The edges were discoloured and curled but she could still make the image out after wiping off a layer of grey dust.

A slight smile escaped her slender lips; it was a drawing of herself done in pencil, dressed in long elegant robes. She wondered if he wanted her to find it. She did not want to leave it behind. She rolled it up and carried it out of his cell, across the corridor and out of the asylum.

When she got back, she took the letter and fell onto her sofa, exhausted. It was late and she was tired but she was not going to bed yet. She had to make sense of Dr Lecter's letter. She felt that she was so close, so close to catching him, she pined for it. She felt her hunger for success grow into a pain, a deep, deep pain.

She read it again, his hand writing was becoming so familiar to her.

"One last drink?" she asked herself again. "When have I ever had a drink with Dr Lecter?"

She thought back to every single time that she had met Dr Lecter. _The asylum, the asylum, the asylum, the lake house._

_The lake house._

She had asked for wine at Paul Krendler's house, just after the Doctor had fed Paul his own brains. Is that where he wanted her to go next? Surely he wouldn't make her go back there and relive that. But she couldn't think of any other time that his letter could relate to.

"Same time" she wondered. It had been very late the last time that they had been there together, and it was very late now. It would be the early hours of the morning when she reached the lake house, but she could not sit at home when she knew where he might be.

Once again, Clarice grabbed her bag, making sure that she had all of the essentials, handcuffs, gun, flashlight, cell-phone. It would take her a couple of hours to reach the lake house, as last time Dr Lecter had taken her there when she was unconscious, so she didn't know how to get there.

She could not get out now, she was part of the game, and she had to end it. Clarice got in her car, threw her bag onto the passenger seat and set out for the lake house.


	3. Chapter 3: Quid Pro Quo

Clarice was starting to regret setting out so late and not waiting until the next day. Her eyelids were very heavy and her body didn't want to work anymore, she needed sleep. Determination and drive had been her only source of energy, she didn't think that sleep was that important compared to catching one of the FBI's ten most wanted. Her hunger for success was keeping her going, keeping her focused and strong.

She kept her grip hard on the wheel and her eyes fixed in front of her. Whenever Clarice had a chance to better herself, she would grab it with both hands. Failure was never an option for her, ever since she was little, she had always wanted to get to a high position in life, where she had control over herself as well as others. She had before questioned whether it was success that she wanted, or if it was escape. Was she always trying to escape her disadvantaged background and troubled childhood? Or did she really want to be someone great?

She thought to herself. She had been a success, with Jame Gumb and the other cases that she solved. But what for, she had recognition and status to show from it, but what was it building up to? She had given up the chance to create happy lives, unlike her own. So what was it all for? Who or what was she trying to please?

She often had days like this, when she looked back on her life and felt like it had all come to nothing. When she felt like she should have settled down, got married and had children instead of focusing on her career so much. She had those days. And there was always that voice, that whispery voice with the slight metallic rasp.

_It resents you more than the husband and children that you gave up to it. Why are you so resented, Clarice?_

Clarice had never had a big ego. She was always modest, polite, courteous, fair. She didn't need to make herself feel good. Maybe Dr Lecter was right in some of the things that he said. Maybe she was trying to please the people who had left her years ago, still trying to make them proud, even though she couldn't. She hated that. How knowledgeable Dr Lecter was and how he saw through her instantly. How he indentified her weaknesses and how he used them to his advantage.

Perhaps that's what Dr Lecter liked about her, her complicated interior. He saw her as a case study. And that was all.

She had learnt her lesson, she was warned that Dr Lecter could get inside of her head and she didn't listen. It was time to start listening to what people were telling her, instead of trusting her own judgement so much. She wasn't going to let herself be a case study for him to look at.

_No._

She was better than that. She had self-respect.

She wasn't hoping for much at the lake house, she knew that Dr Lecter liked to watch her suffer and stress, and he wouldn't make it that easy to find him. She was ready for a long search. It was worth it though, to find him.

She wanted to know why Dr Lecter was like that. She wanted to know so badly. He knew all about her and he knew her weaknesses. But she knew almost nothing about him. She knew of the people he had murdered, she knew his unusual voice and his elegant hand-writing, but she didn't know _him_. How interesting it would be to find out about his past, his childhood, his life. He had never let anyone know much about him. And there was no papers on his life and no files, they had all been stolen and sold or thrown away.

Dr Lecter was way too sophisticated to let her into his past. He would see that as weak. He would identify all of the disadvantages of it in an instant and then he'd turn to stone. His intellect did impress her.

If she could find him, then she could study him. She could study the mind of the brilliant Dr Hannibal Lecter.

Clarice didn't think about stopping on the way, or turning back. She just kept on driving.

She finally reached the large lake house; it was freezing cold and pitch-black. It had been only a few weeks since she was there last and the memory of it made the ground shake beneath her. As she walked towards the house she remembered Dr Lecter carrying her unconscious body from the Verger mansion to her car and from the car to Paul's house. Though she was not fully awake when he held her, she hazily remembered being encased in his strength, how he laid her body down in the back of the car and how he kept checking on her to make sure that she was breathing.

The bitter air hit her immediately as she stepped out of the car and she pulled her coat tighter over her. She stumbled as she walked over the pebbled driveway. She climbed the steps leading to the large door, unlocked it with her own set of keys and then pushed the door slightly. The thought of seeing that spot where Paul was cut-up made the air close up around her, making it hard for her to stand and breathe.

She didn't want to relive it; to see Paul sitting there once more, with the blood dripping down his face.

She closed her eyes, reached out and pushed further. The door swung smoothly. She stepped into the hallway with her flashlight shining in front of her. All of Paul's furniture had been removed already and his electricity had been cut-off. The house was even colder than the air outside and it was deadly silent throughout, she felt like the only living thing in the world.

She silently crept towards the stairs and gently held on to the wooden railing. Without it, she felt like she would dissolve, every inch of her would turn to nothing and float through the house forever, like Paul. She looked up to see if there was anything or anyone up there but it was empty for as far as she could see. She took one step up, and another, and another. There was no creaking on the stairs. She reached the top of the stairs and looked down at the vacant hallway.

"Dr Lecter?" She asked out loud, in case he was in one of the rooms waiting for her. She did not get a response. She assumed that if he was in that house with her, he was purposely silent. Shining the torch onto every door and every inch of the floor, she made her way down the hallway, checking every room. Each one was a tomb. Empty, but full of the bland memories of a wasted life.

The last room, where she had been kept for those few days, was behind the last door. She approached it, breathed in, closed her eyes and pushed. The door opened slowly, like the rest of the rooms, there was nothing in there. Thank god. She was expecting to see something left by Lecter, some ironic set-up. Her eyes moved around the room but she did not enter it.

She turned on the spot and walked back towards the stairs, taking one last look back at the room. If the Doctor was in the house, he was downstairs. She quietly switched off the flashlight and crept down each step.

The downstairs was just as eerily dark and quiet as the rooms above. Clarice felt the shivers run through her body and her hairs stand on end as she travelled through the hallway. The door to the dining room was open slightly. She peeped through to the spot where Paul had sat when the frontal lobe of his brain was removed, cooked in white wine and fed to him. The room was lighter than the rest of the house, with the large windows letting whatever light was left outside inside.

With each step into the room she was remembering more about that night, how Lecter tried to feed her wine, how he said that Paul felt no pain, and how he said that she looked beautiful in that dress. _God, that dress. _She thought that Dr Lecter had taste until she woke up in that dress.

The large room was empty, except for a small black cell phone sitting in the corner of the room on the laminated flooring. "Oh god" Clarice whispered, she knew exactly who had put it there. Just as expected, it started ringing. She left it ringing for a little while. And then answered it, waiting.

A tiny spark of fear hung in her voice. "Hello?"

"Hello, Clarice." a familiar metallic voice whispered.

"Dr Lecter, where are-"

"Oh Clarice, surely you don't think that I am just going to tell you where I am. That would make it much too easy for you, ex-special agent. No, no you'll have to work it out yourself."

"And how do I do that, Doctor?"

"Quid pro quo, Clarice. Yes or no?"

Pounds of silence.

"Fine, go Doctor."

"Okay. How have you been?"

"Fine. Now-"

"No, Clarice. Wrong answer. You have been just the opposite. I have seen it, Clarice. Your drinking, your slacking ways."

"Have you been watching me Doctor?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been watching me for?"

"Quid pro quo, Clarice. I tell you things, you tell me things. You know the rules. Now. I want to know, what will you do with your life, now that your career is officially over?"

"It's not over. I'm suspended pending investigation" Clarice said with a little distaste.

"Investigation into _what_, Clarice?"

"It's my turn. How long have you been watching me for?"

"Long enough. Long enough to see what a state you are in."

"And what state is that, _sir_?"

"_My turn_. What are they investigating, Clarice?"

"Whether or not I helped you escape." She said.

"And did you, Clarice? Did you help me _get away_?" His voice mocked her.

"Doctor, why did you contact me? Obviously, you don't want to get caught. So tell me, why did you write to me? And why did you send me running all over the place to find you?" The words were spilling out of her angrily. She didn't care, she was tired of his game.

"One at a time, Clarice. I contacted you because you need my help. You can't deny it, look at yourself. You have let yourself go, and that is very unlike you. You will benefit from my help."

"I'm fine, I told you. I'm fine."

"No you are not, Clarice. And now, I want to know, why did you accept? Was it only the thought of getting back in with the FBI, Clarice? Or was it something else? Please do tell me, ex-special agent." His words were becoming increasingly faster like hers, but they held a constant rhythm.

"I wanted my job back. I still do. And I'm sure that my _friends_ back at the FBI would be more than happy to see you back behind bars. I want my job back." She repeated, as though she was defending herself.

"I know you do." He stated calmly and omnisciently.

"So, you want to help me? If you wanted to help me, why would you send me from place to place looking for you? Why couldn't you just say that you wanted to help me?" Her words were growing impatient again, hungry for answers.

"I wanted to watch you run, Clarice. It pleases me. And also, I wanted you to realise some things about yourself, and the only way was to send you back to those places."

"What did you want me to realise?"

"My turn, Clarice. Do keep up. How did you feel when you went back to the asylum, Clarice? In particular, when you saw my cell."

"I don't know, Doctor." She said fast and impatiently.

"Yes you do, Clarice. Come on now, think." He wanted to hear her say it.

She frowned and searched within herself for an answer. It had to be the truth, or he would know. "At first I felt dread and then maybe… sadness… or shock. I don't know, Doctor."

"Why sadness?"

"Where are you?" Clarice asked quickly, she almost shouted at him.

"I am close. You are warm. I'll give you a clue, go outside, outback."

Clarice carried the phone through the house, through the back door and into the wet, warm air.

"You're getting warmer."

She looked around but there was no sign of Dr Lecter. Clarice walked towards the lake.

"Yeah, warmer."

Clarice had to extend her arms for a moment to keep her balance on the wet grass. The only light was provided by the moon and it's reflection on the water. Mist and fog hogged the lake like a ghostly shadow. She stepped onto the short wooden pier; the small boat in which she once believed Dr Lecter had escaped on was floating at the end peacefully.

"You are so warm, Clarice."

His enthusiasm almost disgusted her. She took a few more steps further onto the short pier.

"Dr Lecter?" She asked, she could not hear him breathing. He finally answered her with a quick and sure instruction.

"Get in the boat."


	4. Chapter 4: Clarice M

Clarice climbed over the side of the boat, trying to keep the phone to her ear. The boat was small, only big enough to carry a few people. It was comfortable though, and glistening white, as if it had just been cleaned.

"Now what?"

"Start the boat" He said simply.

"I don't know how."

"I'll take you through it. It's just like starting a car, Clarice. The red button is a lock that, when squeezed, will allow you to move the throttle into forward or reverse. There's a detent for neutral, in the middle, and when you push the throttle forward, while squeezing the red button, or backward, the transmission will be placed in forward or reverse. Move the throttle forward more and the forward movement will increase. The fast idle lever is to be used when you start the motor without engaging the transmission. Like when you press the gas on your car when it's in neutral."

"Okay…" Clarice looked at the controls and the wheel. "Looks easy enough." When training with the FBI she had been taught to learn fast and act fast whilst maintaining control and confidence. She could do this.

"Start the boat, Clarice." Lecter said in a calm tone.

She reached out and handled the red button trying to remember what Dr Lecter had said. The boat's engine started with a sudden jerk and a loud bubbling sound, frightening Clarice and sending a rush of heat to her forehead. She felt her heart jump, pulsing warmth with every beat.

"It's okay, Clarice, that was a good start. Now, just go forward, straight forward." He watched from a short distant, keeping his eyes fixed on her expression and what she was doing with her hands. He knew that it was risky letting her do this, but he knew that she _could_ do it, and he wanted her to realise it. "You can do this, Clarice. Remember, you are a warrior."

She took a deep breath after his last words, taking comfort in them. She wouldn't usually let herself find trust and reassurance in him, but now she felt that she needed it. "Talk to me Doctor, I need you to talk as I do this."

"Okay. To your left you will find a thick coat for you to put on, it's cold and that denim jacket will not suffice. Clarice, I noticed that your once close friend, Miss Ardelia Mapp, has not been to visit you in a while. Why?"

Clarice took the coat and wrapped it around her. The boat started to move slowly. Her eyes were moving fast between the controls and the view in front of her whilst she was trying to maintain the flow of conversation. "She's been busy. Where to, Doctor?"

"Keep going forward. And she's been busy? So what? I was busy but I am here for you now, aren't I?" His words seemed to go on forever.

"I'm sorry that I inconvenienced you." she said calmly.

"Don't be silly, Clarice, I came because I wanted to." He said, repeating the words that she had said to him in Memphis, with a tone that made her realise it. She made a noise between a sigh and a laugh and raised her eyebrows. He continued to watch her carefully as the boat gained speed.

"So tell me, what were you busy with?"

"Oh, you know, same old stuff."

"Same old stuff?" She asked. "I hope not the same old stuff that you got up to in Memphis."

"No, no don't worry, Clarice. I haven't killed or eaten anyone lately, like _Paul_."

Clarice shuddered at the mention of the name. It was no longer only the lambs that stalked her dreams.

"Glad to hear it." she said. "Where am I going, Doctor?"

"Just keep going forward."

Clarice drove the boat in silence for around ten more minutes, Dr Lecter only spoke to reassure her.

"Okay, Clarice. This is far enough." Dr Lecter said.

Clarice stopped the boat, proudly. She looked back at the lake house; it was very small from the distance. Scanning the miles of vacant water with her eyes, Clarice's heartbeat became more frequent. The idea of being the only person surrounded by the dark, freezing water didn't agree with her.

"Sit down, Clarice. I want to have a talk with you first."

Clarice sat down in the corner of the boat and curled up. "It's very cold, Doctor."

"I know, just hold on. This will only take a few minutes. I want to explain."

Clarice wanted to hear this. She sat silently, hugging her knees and holding the phone between her shoulder and her head.

"I think that it would be beneficial for you to spend some time with me, I am very worried about you, Clarice. Everything you love has been taken away from you again, all purpose and meaning has left your life. You are bound to feel the way that you do. But you were drinking excessively and I was worried that you might do something silly. I had to intervene."

"And why do you think that spending time with you will help me?"

"I could help you, not only as a friend, but as a professional." He explained in a whispery tone.

"As a _doctor_, you mean?" she asked, as if he had insulted her.

"If that's what you want."

"And what do _you_ gain from all of this?"

"The pleasure of your company, of course." He was almost sarcastic.

"How long?" Clarice asked, closing her eyes.

"I should think no longer than a couple of weeks."

"Why so briefly?"

"Well, I should think that it should give them enough time to realise that you're gone, Clarice, and it would give me a chance to help you."

"Who to realise, Doctor?"

"The FBI. Those people that you despise almost as much as they despise you."

"Doctor, I don't understand, wha-"

"They will notice your silence, Clarice, and they won't like it. They will look for you, become desperate and pine for you. They can't survive without you and they know it." His tone was informal and surprisingly supportive.

"So, you're doing this to help me get my job back?" She asked.

"Well, yes, and like I said, maybe I can help you in other ways too. I will trust you not to betray me. If you do, I will be gone before you know it. So, what do you think, Clarice?"

"I…" She tried to argue, but decided against it, his plan made sense. After all, he was right, Ardelia had become distant, she had no family and her career was basically non-existent. "Where would we stay?"

"I have a place in Maryland, rented. It's very nice."

"Doctor… they would say that I have run away with you, or something stupid like that. How would I explain it when I go back?"

"Say you were on vacation." He said. "I want to help you, Clarice."

"What about clothes… my things?"

"I have everything that you will need at the house. And you can return to your things in a couple of weeks.. I do have one condition though; You give me your weapons."

Clarice closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay, Doctor. I'll come."

"Good." He said simply.

Clarice heard the bubbling of water and the humming of an engine behind her. She stood up and looked out to the water, seeing another boat approaching hers from the mist. This boat was much larger and bright white. She notice the name of the boat written in elegant black along the boat, it said "CLARICE.M" She put the phone in her bag on her back, walked to the edge of the boat and stood waiting. The boat stopped a short distance away from hers.

There stood the dark figure of Dr Lecter, in his usual attire, a tailor-made suit, higher above Clarice. Clarice stood opposite him and stared for a moment, unaware of what to say or do.

"Clarice, would you like to come over?" He asked her, noticing that she was frozen.

"…Yes." She lifted her one leg onto the side of the boat and was forced to reach out for Dr Lecter to help her. He took her arm and helped her balance on the side of the boat for a second, before reaching over and lifting her up, hiding the rage of his heartbeat. Clarice only realised how tiny her boat was when she looked down at it.

"What about the boat?"

"Don't worry about it. No one is going to be looking for it anytime soon." He said. "You look tired."

"I am." she said, sighing. She was not looking her best, unlike the good Doctor.

"Would you like to lie down? There's a small bedroom inside and we'll be back at the lake house soon, where we will transfer to a car."

"…Yeah, okay." she said, smiling awkwardly and walking inside with him.

"Clarice, I have to ask you for your bag, I need to take the guns." He said politely. It was strange to see Dr Lecter so calm and relaxed outside of the asylum. She didn't feel so threatened, like she did at the lake house with Paul.

She handed him the bag and he removed her weapons before handing it back.

"Doctor, I'm curious, why bring me all the way out here to talk?"

"I wanted you to see the boat. I got it especially for you, Clarice."

"I know, I saw the name, it's very nice." she said, smiling uneasily.

There were three small rooms inside of the boat, one had a couch, a stove, a sink, a wine rack and a fridge. It was unusually modern, decorated in whites and greys. It was bigger than Clarice had imagined it; it was almost a yacht. One room was a small bathroom, and the other she suspected to be the bedroom.

He gestured towards the room furthest and opened the door for her. She stepped in and looked around; it was small and comfortable, modern like the other room. There was a large bed. "Thank you, Doctor." she said, before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking the thick coat off.

"I'll let you know when we get back." He said, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Clarice fell backwards and stretched out her arms the moment that the door closed, pushing her bag onto the floor. She climbed beneath the thick sheets, curled up and closed her eyes, listening to the unusually comforting bubble of water as the boat started to move, hoping to drown out the reality of her situation. It wasn't long before the tire of the recent events consumed her and her eyes closed heavily, her mind racing silently and constantly wary of any screaming that might creep up there…


	5. Chapter 5: Nothingness

"Clarice?" Dr Lecter called loudly but calmly as he walked through the small lounge of the boat. It had taken no longer than ten minutes to travel back to the pier on the Clarice.M, for which time Clarice had been resting. Dr Lecter knocked twice on her door before opening it a little and peering in. She was still curled up beneath the thick white sheets, sleeping in utter silence. She was breathing quietly and regularly.

"Clarice?" He looked down at her and wiped a veil of hair away from her face with one gentle swish of his finger.

He put her bag on his back and peeled back the thick white sheets that she was lying under. He positioned one arm beneath her torso, and the other beneath her legs, lifted her slowly from the bed and then carried her out of the boat. Dr Lecter set Clarice down in the back of her car, where he covered her with the same sheets and placed a pillow beneath her head. It would not take too long to get to Baltimore and he didn't want her to wake.

She was still asleep when they reached their destination. After removing their bags from the car and into the house, Dr Lecter returned for sleeping Clarice. Again, trying not to wake her, he carried her into the large house and up the stairs. Her head rolled back as he lifted her and her hair swayed back and forth, shining. He noticed her wound turning into a fresh new scar.

He set her down upon her bed, covered her and walked back towards the door, looking back at her once more before leaving.

Dr Lecter closed Clarice's door, travelled past the stairs into the opposite hallway and to the door at the end, his own bedroom. His room was about the same size of Clarice's but was less decorated and homely. He was quite exhausted. He changed quickly and climbed into bed. He too hoped for silence.

Clarice awoke in a large comfortable bed. She sat up and lifted her legs over to the side of the bed. The room in which she had slept was neat and stylish; it had a large bed, a wardrobe and a dresser, a small sofa and ottoman, and a large window covered by long flowing curtains. The carpet beneath her bare feet was probably the finest that she had ever felt.

The whole room was decorated with fine materials in soft browns and creams. Clarice walked a few steps to the shady window and pulled the rich curtains apart. Her eyes met lots and lots of greenery; tall trees and grass. It was very beautiful. They were definitely not at the lake house anymore. The air looked fresh and clear and the sky was blue, she imagined that this house was large and alone, surrounded my miles of beauty and nothingness.

She was wearing the same clothes that she had been in at the lake house, dark blue jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt, her feet were bare and her hair was loose and no longer fresh. She stopped before opening the door, running her fingers through it at an attempt to try and neaten it up. She opened the door wider and stepped out. She was in a small hallway with a door on either side of her, she had come out of the door at the end. The doors, walls and floor were mahogany brown and shiny. This was a large, well-furnished and well-kept house. She walked through the hallway, passing various expensive paintings; a fruit basket, scenery, mountains, an old, stern-looking gentleman with a beard. She reached the stairway; across from where she had just came there was another hallway, a little larger than the other with a few more rooms. Her feet met another rich carpet as she took steps downstairs, holding the mahogany railing. More expensive paintings. She closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma of fresh bread as she reached the last few steps. She finally reached the bottom.

The foyer was similar to the upstairs, decorated with rich furnishings in mahogany and reds. Clarice was now certain that she was in a very large house; there were five, maybe six, doors facing her.

One door was open and faint noises of cutlery moving around were escaping from it. She walked towards it slowly and lightly, passing a large ticking clock. She pushed the door and it swung smoothly. The room was a kitchen, different to the rest of the house, lightly furnished and decorated in whites and creams. The delicious aromas made Clarice's stomach wiggle. She observed the dark figure with his back to her, cooking elegantly.

"Good morning, Clarice." he said, without looking back at her. "Please, sit. Breakfast is nearly ready."

Clarice sat and watched him cook.

"You should have got me up and I would have helped you." she said, stretching her neck to see what he was frying.

"Well, you were exhausted and I have been up for quite a while anyway." He said, handing her a plate.

"Didn't you sleep?"

"Not very well, no." He said, taking a seat opposite her.

"Why?"

"Bad dream." He said almost in a whisper with a little hesitation.

"The great Dr Hannibal Lecter had a bad dream?" she asked, emphasising the 'great'.

It was unusual to say his first name in front of him. He didn't seem to mind though.

"Yes, believe it or not."

The two ate their breakfast almost in silence, not an awkward silence or a hateful one, but a peaceful one. Dr Lecter stood when they had finished, removed both plates and put them in the sink. He ran the hot water.

"The house is beautiful."

"Thank you. Did you find your room suitable?"

"Yes, very comfortable, thank you."

"What would you like to do today? I thought that it would be nice to relax and start on some of your issues tomorrow, if that's alright with you." He said, glancing back at her.

"Yes, yes that's fine, sounds good. And I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"I was thinking maybe the orchestra, Baltimore of course, since you've never been."

"So that's where we are. Are you sure that's what you want to do? You didn't really have a good experience the last time, did you? And how would you avoid detection?"

Dr Lecter recognised that familiar panic in her tone of voice. "Clarice, I have done this many times before, you know. And you wouldn't have to avoid detection, I would. You are fine the way that you are. You mustn't worry, Clarice, I bought you here to relax."

"I don't know. Maybe we should wait a few days."

"Whatever makes you comfortable." He said with a very brief smile.

Clarice spent the rest of her first day at the large house up in her room, reading books that she had collected from the small library downstairs and drinking a bottle of expensive red wine, provided by the good Doctor. She had assured the doctor that she would only have a couple of glasses, she lied. She was on her fifth glass. It was ten at night and she had been in her room for over four hours straight, only leaving before that to eat and go to the bathroom.

Drunk and wearing her new silk pyjamas, she made her way down the long staircase and to Dr Lecter in the large living room, greeting the various characters in the expensive paintings on her way. It was very old-fashioned and felt medieval, decorated in browns, reds and black. There was a large bookshelf full of old books, a big marble fireplace, a sofa and armchair.

Dr Lecter sat in the armchair reading a book bound with creased green leather. He looked up at Clarice as she stumbled into the room, clutching the now-empty bottle. She wandered lazily towards him, and fell onto the sofa, eyes half-open.

"Clarice, you have had much more than a couple of glasses." Lecter said, in an almost dangerous tone.

"And… what?"

"It isn't good for you."

"What do you care…? You don't give a shit about me…"

"Now, now, Clarice, don't get yourself upset."

"Who's upset? I'm… I'm not upset, maybe you're upset."

Lecter opened his mouth to say something but Clarice stopped him with a raised hand.

"Why don't you tell me something Doctor?" she asked, sitting up in her seat and facing him.

He rolled his eyes and tilted his head slightly, waiting for her argument. He knew that she lost her manners when she drank.

"Doesn't it ever get boring? Don't you ever get tired of it? Tell me…"

She raised the bottle to her lips and tilted it upwards, frowning when she realised that she had consumed it all already.

"Tired of what, Clarice?"

"Being alone." Her eyes widened a little at the realisation at what she had said.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, looked at his watch and then back up to Clarice. "Okay, Clarice. I think that you've had enough for tonight. Get to bed."

His glare was strong, his tone so calm that it was almost dangerous.

"I mean, when you go to your fancy shows and posh restaurants, when you see people together, couples, families, and then there's you... all alone…" Clarice said annoyingly, eyes closed and face leaning towards Lecter.

Apparently she lost her maturity as well as her manners.

Lecter looked up at her. "Ah, but Clarice, see that's where you're wrong. I'm never alone. Because I have you. Everywhere I go, I have you. Don't I, Clarice?"

"You don't have me," She said, standing up abruptly, "No one has me."

Trying to turn towards the door she stumbled and fell to her knees, sending the bottle shattering onto the floor. There Clarice sat looking down, pathetic and humiliated. Lecter put his book to one side, rose and walked over to the hunched Clarice on the floor. He reached down and lifted her from under her arms.

"Come on now, time for bed, I think."

She let him lift her and leant backwards on him when she stood, her head rolling back onto his shoulder. He held her arms from behind and guided her up the stairs and into her room.

He sat her on the small sofa whilst he removed the books and wine glasses from her bed and pulled back the covers. He returned to Clarice, who was slumped in her seat, head back and body relaxed. He lifted her by the arms again and guided her towards the bed.

"Get in."

"I'm not tired."

"You are tired, you just don't realise it." Dr Lecter said, whilst removing Clarice's socks.

"And how did you work that one out, Doctor?"

"I know you better than you know yourself." he said, wiping her long hair away from her face. "Good night, Clarice."

"Good night, Doctor." she said quietly, turning to lie on her side away from him as he left her room.


	6. Chapter 6: Cry me a River

Thumping aches greeted Clarice as she sat up in her bed. The events of the previous night seemed vague but with each moment that her eyes were open she was remembering a little more about what had happened. She remembered going downstairs and asking the doctor for a bottle of wine, she remembered drinking every last drop of it, she remembered watching it shatter at Dr Lecter's feet. She sat up in bed contemplating whether to go downstairs and face him or not.

She changed from her silk pyjamas into a pair of blue jeans and a plain white t shirt. She washed and brushed through her hair and then opened the door slowly, only enough to leave a gap of an inch or two. The hallway was clear. She walked down it and down the stairs on her tip toes. She stopped when she reached the bottom; there was no smell of bread or bacon and no noises from the kitchen.

She peered into the living room, it was empty, the library- empty, and the bathroom- empty. She went back to the bottom of the stairs and shouted "Dr Lecter?" No reply. She walked halfway up the stairs and to the top, each time stopping to call his name but with no reply.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, where the hell is he? What the hell did I say to him last night? I'm in this goddam house all by myself?! Oh god._

Feet moving in a fast rhythm, she ran back down the stairs and outside. The Doctor's Jaguar was gone. Not knowing which his bedroom was, she checked all rooms upstairs, but he was nowhere. He hadn't left a note saying where he was, nothing.

_Maybe he just had to go somewhere or he had to get something or had to go see someone, or maybe he was angry about last night and he really is gone. _

She stopped and walked into the living room. She sat in the Doctor's chair and tried to think. She remembered something about 'alone', she said something about him being alone.

Maybe he was angry about it and he just left, late last night or this morning, after he put her to bed maybe.

_But would he really leave me here like this? He said he wanted to help, so he wouldn't leave… would he?_

She was surprised at her reaction to the Doctor's absence and felt weak. Why did she feel so out of place? She scalded herself in her mind for placing trust in him.

_She should have known better, she can't let herself feel this way, she can't betray what she worked for. No, Clarice. No. _

The front door slammed shut.

Clarice looked up instantly, pushed herself up from the arms of the chair and darted into the foyer. There stood Dr Lecter in a thin grey coat holding a brown paper bag, he looked up at her as she rushed in to see if it was him.

"Good morning, Clarice."

"Dr Lecter, where have you been? I was worried sick!"

"We ran out of bread" He said, raising the brown bag innocently.

"You could have left a note."

"You're right, I apologise. I didn't expect you to be up so early. How's your head?" He said as he walked past her into the kitchen, giving her a glance of 'It's your own fault' on the way.

She stood there for a moment.

"Painful." she said, following him into the kitchen and sitting down.

"Dr Lecter, I think I can remember bits of what happened last night… what I said… and I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight."

"No you wasn't. But forget about it, Clarice. It's forgotten."

"Are you sure? I _was_ a bitch." She said with a smile and a short laugh, he looked over his shoulder and laughed with her for a second.

"I'm sure. I was thinking, we could go out for a while."

"Where?"

"I want to take you somewhere, it's not far from here, we will walk."

"You're not going to tell me where?"

"No." he said simply, handing her a plate of toast, a glass or orange juice and two tablets.

"You're not eating?"

"No, I ate earlier. I need to get some things together. Clarice, after you've eaten, I want you to go and change. It's hot and you'll cook in those jeans." He said, leaving the kitchen.

After breakfast, Clarice opened her wardrobe and searched through the clothes that the Doctor had provided for her. She picked out a blue summer dress, with very fine white flowers along the bottom and some white shoes with little heels. She liked the clothes that he had picked out for her. She darted down the stairs and into the living room after she had changed. The Doctor was sitting in his arm chair waiting for her. His breathing seemed to stop for a second when she entered the room. He stood.

"Good choice." he said.

The two left the house and walked down the pebbled pathway. "How far is it?" Clarice asked.

"Not far."

They walked down the long winding road which lead up to the big house. On either side stood the tallest and the greenest trees, blocking most of the light and making the bright air dark. For a second Dr Lecter thought that he felt Clarice's arm hold onto his, only for a second. When the trees' leaves parted and let in some of the sunlight, an uneven pattern glistened on the ground and danced with each breeze.

The smell of the leaves and the branches was earthy and strong and seemed to thrive in the darkness, whilst the birds sang of daylight. It was unusual, as if the world was in limbo. They didn't talk on the way, they just listened. Clarice's eyes seemed to wander; she had never really taken the time to appreciate the world around her until now.

When the trees ended, the Doctor guided Clarice through a much lighter pathway, with no trees. They came to a small hill, Clarice still couldn't see where they were going. It was just grass, and more trees. Dr Lecter walked in front of her, up the small hill and beneath one of the biggest tree which looked out over miles of land, she followed behind him.

"Sit down, Clarice."

She sat on the grass and the Doctor sat beside her, legs stretched out and leaning on his elbow. After sitting for a couple of minutes and admiring the view, the Doctor began to speak.

"Clarice, I want you to tell me what you see. Look out and tell me exactly what you see." He said calmly. Clarice looked out at the view, there were miles and miles of grass and trees before the first feint shapes of buildings appeared.

"I see… tall trees… clouds… gras-"

"No, Clarice. Not what you can see _physically_. Look around you, tell me what you feel when you look around you." He said, watching her, squinting a little to pick up even the slightest changes in her expression.

Clarice's eyes moved around, scanning the view in front of her. "It's… beautiful, I guess. I never knew that Baltimore could be so beautiful… It's nature… it's natural… ummm… Doctor, why do you want me to do this?"

He breathed in deeply, admiring the aromas of the fresh grass. "Clarice, when I look at you I see everything good in the world."

Clarice watched him, listening intently. "I see virtue but determination, I see purity but drive. Look around you, look around at this world in which we live. Yes, it can get ugly at times; You know that more than most. But it can be very beautiful. And I want you to realise that you are a part of it, Clarice. You make up the beauty that you see before you."

Clarice continued to watch his lips move, her mouth opening a little at his words. Dr Lecter's eyes moved from the view, to the grass, to Clarice. His eyes held her there, at that place and that moment, the little red sparks dancing in the blue.

"You have never seen all that you are, Clarice. You've never looked beyond the walls of the orphanage and the walls of the FBI. You have always been trying to push the barriers which you place yourself. I want you to see more, I want you to see the world, I want you to realise that you are part of the world and its brilliance, Clarice. I want you to see that you don't need the FBI to achieve greatness. You have always pushed yourself in your career, made sure that you were the best, always expecting more of yourself, and that's a good quality, but I want you to realise that there is much more for you out there. There is much more than the FBI, more than trying to please the people who don't care about you. There is much more than just business and work. There is beauty, Clarice, you are part of it, and you have a wonderful chance to chase it."

He sighed and looked out at the view, he was finished. Clarice kept her eyes on him, frowning in shock and admiration; he was trying to open up a world to her, one which she had always ignored. He wanted her to appreciate it like he did and to understand it like he did. She just looked at him for a few seconds, taking it all in.

"What bought this on, Doctor?" she asked, her words quiet compared to his.

"I just wanted you to realise how powerful _you _are, Clarice. I want you to embrace it. I want you to know that you don't need them, or anyone, you can achieve _just_ by being you, just as you are. Take advantage of the place in which you have been granted, Clarice" he said, looking at her, nodding lightly and then looking down at the grass and picking at it with his hands.

Clarice tilted her head and smiled, her smile was almost sad, sad at what he was trying to do for her and how much he cared. She had never heard him speak with such passion before. She sat back and leant on her elbow, one leg stretched out and the other draping over it, like the Doctor. She messed with the grass with her free hand.

"Thanks, Doc." she said with a sighed laugh, smiling at him when he looked up at her.

They both looked out at the view. "You know, Clarice, we're not so different, you and I."

"How?" she said, her eyes becoming lazy as she watched him speak.

"I used to feel like you do, I still do sometimes. Wanting to get out, wanting to push those orphanage barriers."

"You were in an orphanage?"

"Yes, a long time ago. I felt like you do now, like you always have felt." He sighed and looked at the grass in his hand.

"What happened… to your family?" she asked carefully. Dr Lecter very rarely spoke about his life to anyone. Actually, he very rarely spoke to anyone about anything.

He blinked and glanced at her. "It's not important." He said, looking away again. "Would you like a drink?" He asked her.

"Yes, please."

Dr Lecter handed her a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice, taking one for himself as well. Clarice was glad that it was orange juice and not wine. The breeze was fresh against her skin; it ran over her shoulders and her collarbones and across her legs, rippling the thin blue material that ended on her thighs. She rolled back her head and looked at the leaves above her and the spots of sky that were visible through them. Dr Lecter watched her, her long hair reached further down her back as her head stretched, it seemed a brighter shade of red, the sunlight emphasising the highlights and making them gleam. He watched her blue eyes move.

"It really is beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm glad that you think so." Their eyes met. It was strange from both ends. In that moment, Clarice thought that she saw him as a person, not just as one of the FBI's most wanted and Dr Lecter saw a glimpse of a change in Clarice, she wasn't so heavily guarded, just for that moment. Dr Lecter looked at the view and Clarice looked down at the grass.

Clarice tried to scald herself mentally.

They sat there for a while, talking about the view and the world. Dr Lecter took pride in teaching her things about it and Clarice took pride in learning.

"Would you like to go back now, Clarice?" the Doctor asked.

"Yeah." she said lazily with a sigh, stretching out her legs and taking one last long look at the view.

They walked back the same way that they had came, and in silence again. When they reached the house, Clarice collapsed on the sofa in the living room and Dr Lecter went upstairs. When he returned he had a heavy bag and he was dressed in darker clothing.

"Clarice, I have to go out for a while, will you be alright on your own?"

She sat up straight. "Where are you going?"

He noticed the alarm in her voice. "I need to go and see someone. Nothing important. Will you be alright here?"

"Yes…" She said, forcing a smile.

"Okay. I'll be back soon." He said, before leaving.

The Doctor was out for the rest of the day, for which time Clarice spent reading in the library. The library was magnificent. It looked medieval, decorated in browns and reds with dark leather furniture and thousands of old books. Sometimes Clarice didn't even read the book that she picked up, she just opened it to a random page, pressed it to her face and inhaled the fragrance, she loved the smell of the old books in the library. She had never taken the time to appreciate books before but she decided to change that.

A section of the small library was dedicated to records and she chose a few and carried them over to the record player. She sang loudly and sometimes lost herself, dancing around the library slowly and in swaying motions, sometimes holding the record cover or a book tight to her chest, only to stop when she got embarrassed at herself. It was night when Dr Lecter returned to the house and decided to investigate the feint music from the library.

'…_And now you say you love me, well just to prove you do, why don't you cry me a river…'_

Dr Lecter stepped into the library and smiled lightly at the sight of Clarice, asleep in the leather chair under a book. He walked over to her, carefully stepping over the piles of books and records that she had left on the floor, and removed the open book from her chest. She was reading _Great Expectations_. Dr Lecter removed the record from the record player. He picked up the books and records and placed them back where Clarice had taken them from and covered her with a blanket before turning off the lights and leaving.

Before retiring for the night he washed his hands thoroughly. A sense of pride overcame him as the water became a shade of orange after touching his hands and then redder when he rubbed his hands together. He couldn't risk it, not for his own sake, but for Clarice's. If they had found out that Clarice was living with _Hannibal the Cannibal_, she would have been wanted too, and he just could not risk that. He had no choice but to do what he did. If protecting her life meant taking another then so be it.

_Disclaimer:__ Cry Me A River, written by Arthur Hamilton, 1953._


	7. Chapter 7: Dream of Me

Clarice made herself breakfast and took a quick shower. The Doctor was out when she woke up but he had definitely been back as he had tidied the library whilst she was asleep. Clarice was dressed in another summer dress today, plain white. She had decided to take advantage of the time that she had with Dr Lecter in Baltimore, as soon she would be back with the FBI and she wouldn't have the time to appreciate the world like she could now.

She left the house and took the same route that she had taken with the Doctor on the previous day. In the air hung the same strong, earthy aroma and the birds sang the same song, but when she looked to her left there was no Dr Lecter. She walked up the same hill, sat beneath the same tree, looking out at the same view. She only sat there for ten minutes before leaving, it wasn't as beautiful looking out on it alone. She walked back to the house lazily, footsteps heavy and gaze at the floor. She was deep in thought, angry at herself for not being able to identify her own feelings.

She didn't like change, or anything which strayed from control and this situation was anything but controlled.

She picked up the Doctor's white t-shirt from the floor in the living room. A frown and a squint as she ran her finger over a red spot on the white material. She fumbled with the t-shirt and held it up in front of her, letting it fall out. Her mouth opened a little, hundreds of little red spots. At that moment she heard the front door shut. She stood with her back to the door, looking down at the crumpled t-shirt in her hands; she didn't turn right away when the Doctor walked in.

"Clarice?" He asked her, confused and a little worried.

She turned, still looking down at the red drops. "Did you hurt yourself?"

His eyes seemed to widen ever so slightly. "No, I didn't hurt myself."

"Doctor?" she asked, Dr Lecter stopping and facing her as he was walking out of the room. "You didn't hurt someone else did you?"

He blinked. "Yes, I did."

Clarice stared at him, a glare of hurt and disbelief. "Who and why?"

"I had no choice, Clarice. I spotted him yesterday, lurking behind one of the trees. A reporter I presume, looking for a story or a reward. From what I could force out of him, he hadn't told anyone yet. I couldn't risk it, he had to go. We'll be having no more bother from him, Clarice, don't worry." Dr Lecter smiled quickly and left the room calmly. Clarice followed him in a speed walk.

"Doctor! You can't just go around killing people like that!" she screamed at him as he turned to look at her as she entered the kitchen. "You can't do that!"

"Clarice, I told you, I had no choice."

She sensed impatience in his voice but she didn't care or stop. "You always have a choice, no one is controlling you."

"If he had said anything, it would not only lead to my capture, but yours as well, Clarice. I'm sure that's not what you want." He stayed calm.

"So you did this for me, did you? Well you don't need to protect me, Doctor. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself." she said bitterly and sternly, before storming out of the kitchen and running up the stairs.

Clarice made sure that she slammed her bedroom door hard enough for the Doctor to hear. She was so angry at him, fuming even! Just when she thought she could see through the things that he had done in the past and see him as a person, he kills again. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands resting there and head bowed down. Hot sheets of tears swam over her freckled skin and formed thick droplets hanging onto her chin, making a melancholy _tap tap tap_ as they fell onto her bare knees. She felt like she did at the lake house with Paul, the Doctor had killed and she could not stop it.

_But wasn't that what she wanted? Didn't she want him to come and harm the ones who harmed her? Wasn't that how she felt after the incident at the lake house? _

She raised her head and closed her eyes, more hot tears ran over the curves of her cheeks.

What was happening? Was she upset because the Doctor had killed, or was she upset because she didn't care? She ran her flat hands from her nose towards her ears, thick streams of salty water running down her fingers, her face left hot and clammy. She rubbed her hands together and went into the bathroom to wash her face.

The Doctor was in the kitchen preparing lunch, he was washing the chicken. As he was doing so, he started to evaluate Clarice's behaviour. She had shown strong discomfort and anger at his actions, as he would expect her to, but he imagined that she would be feeling a little mad and guilty at herself by now as well. But how would she react to the guilt? Would she change her behaviour and try to alter her feelings, or would she let herself feel the way that she did?

He set the chicken on the surface and started to separate the slices. Knowing Clarice, she would not be so lenient with herself; she had strong views about the way that she should think and the way that she should act, he assumed that it was because her father was a police officer. Dr Lecter believed that her father's death had resulted in Clarice adopting his views and beliefs and not forming any for herself, which was why she was so strict with herself and careful with the way that she behaved. It would take a lot to break through that and get to the true Clarice, but he had accepted the challenge.

The chicken was cooking slowly and the Doctor decided to read for a while. He washed and dried his hands and chose a book from the library bound with thick brown leather. He entered the living room and walked over to his armchair, stopping when he reached it and looking down at Clarice. She was looking back up at him, her expression plain and her face back to its normal colour, but anger and disappointment hung in the pale blue of her eyes. He turned and chose the seat furthest away from Clarice on the sofa. She watched him sit and open his book. He kept his eyes on the pages in front of him.

"Dr Lecter, I need you to know that I appreciate that you tried to protect me, but I'll never be comfortable with the way that you did it."

"I don't expect you to feel comfortable about it, Clarice."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Well, that depends what it is." he said, raising his eyebrows. "Go ahead."

"Why do you think that you are so comfortable with death?"

"I'm familiar with it." he said casually, as if it didn't matter.

"Why are you familiar with it? When were you first introduced to death?"

Dr Lecter closed his book and looked in front of him for a second before looking at Clarice. "I was young."

"How young?"

"Too young." He stood and went into the kitchen. She didn't follow him.

They sat at opposite ends of the dining table whilst they ate. The air was clear and light but in Clarice's mind tension pulsed with bitter hurt, pushing against the sides of her head, making her squint with short stabs of pain. She held onto her face and the sides of her head every now and again, eating what she could. As delicious as Dr Lecter's cooking was, she could not finish it.

"Clarice, elbows off the table please."

She gave him one quick glance of spite and moved her arms to her sides, looking away from him. He watched her though his face was turned towards his plate. She looked around at the floor.

"Clarice, would you like to be excused?"

"Yes, please."

"Go on then." Dr Lecter was still looking up at her. "I'll clean up."

She took her glass with her into the library.

Clarice had come to take comfort in the records, they could say what she couldn't and she found herself wanting to stay up all night listening to them. She stood with her face a couple of inches away from the records on the shelves, sipping her wine. Her eyes lightened when she found songs that she remembered hearing on the radio years ago when she had time for music, hits, one-hit wonders, ballads. Her fingers ran up the side and pulled them out of their places.

She took some over to the fort that she had built in the middle of the library in front of the record player; it was made of the huge red cushions with the gold patterns, sitting in a circle on the red carpet. Records and the record covers lay around it, some balancing on the cushions, some hidden by them. Her head lay on a cushion, her arms spread over the carpet and the records and her legs bent so her feet lay flat.

She could hear Dr Lecter clearing the plates from the dining room. She looked up at the ceiling and let the music surround her, she felt it run over her and around her.

'_Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me, while I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me…'_

Dr Lecter stood at the kitchen sink with his hands in the hot water, running it over the plates and cutlery with a sponge when he heard the voice of Clarice Starling, singing along to the ballad. He stopped moving his hands and stood still for a moment, closing his eyes and indulging in the sound. He walked silently and slowly to the library, where he stood behind the door listening intently, his ear an inch away and fingers moving to the melody as if he were pressing the keys of a piano.

'_Still craving your kiss, I'm longing to linger till dawn dear…'_

Lying there on the floor of the library, her voice performing the beautiful lyrics of the ballad carelessly, and Clarice's mind started to wander. She felt relaxed at the big house, she felt comfortable and safe. Her room felt like _her_ room, the house almost felt like her own.

Though there was still an emptiness lingering in her, and when she thought about it her stomach started to swirl. She thought about what Dr Lecter had said to her, about exploring the world instead of staying in her job. He said that they didn't care about her, the FBI, and she hated to admit it, but he was right. They didn't care about her, not one bit. It made her think about her position. She was always trying to gain the approval of people who didn't care, she was in a dead-end job, she had no family, nothing. Was Dr Lecter right in all that he said? Was the best place for her anywhere _but_ the FBI?

She shook her head a little. Her stomach wasn't agreeing with her mind.

She thought about Dr Lecter, it was so unusual living with him, there were two of him; 'Hannibal the Cannibal' and 'Lecter the Protector'. It was obvious which she agreed with and she liked the most. But if he had to be one, which one was he? The bad or the good? She wasn't sure about what she thought of him yet. She didn't really know who he was, but she was determined to find out.

The door opened silently and Dr Lecter stepped into the library. Clarice's voice stopped singing. "Good evening, Dr Lecter." she said, imitating his tone of voice playfully but subtly.

A smile. "Good evening."

She sat up and crossed her legs.

"Please, sit." she said, as if this part of the house was hers.

He sat on the leather armchair. Clarice stood and removed the record, Dr Lecter watched her. She sat in her fort, legs crossed, facing the Doctor. She tilted her head and rocked side to side slowly, looking at him, contemplating something.

"What are you thinking, Clarice?"

"Nothing." she said lazily, closing her eyes and breathing in. "I love it in here."

"I noticed. Why do you love it so much?"

"I just… I don't know, I suppose it's the music, and the books, they're really calming. They can say a lot."

"Do you love music, Dr Lecter?"

"Of course." he said with a big nod.

"Why do _you_ love it so much?"

"For many reasons, one being the same as yours, it can say a lot."

"Put one of your records on, Doctor."

The Doctor rose and disappeared into the record aisle for a minute and returned with a record, he placed it in the player and returned to his seat. Sitting with his fingers intertwined on his knee, Dr Lecter watched Clarice as she listened. Her eyes wandered.

"What is this, Doctor?"

"Goldberg variations. Do you like it?" A hint of hope hung in his speech.

"It's beautiful." She looked away and looked back. "What does this song say for you?"

"It can say whatever I want it to, but at the moment it doesn't say so much as it… shows."

"What does it show now?"

"Well, I think it shows elegance, grace."

"Why?" His head moved onto a slant. "It matches the view, Clarice." Clarice looked down at her lap.

"Doctor," she started.

"Yes, Clarice?"

"I don't know what to do" she said sadly, looking down at the floor.

"About what?"

"This situation"

"What is it about this situation, Clarice?"

"What if… what if I never want to go back?"

"Then you don't have to."

"But I _do_ have to." she said desperately with glassy eyes.

"Why? Why do you think that you have to go back?"

"I don't know… I feel like I'm betraying everyone if I don't. I feel like I have an obligation to be there in that job with those people." The words were spilling out of her as if they were blood.

"Clarice, you don't owe anyone anything and you don't have any obligations to anyone. You are your own person; You have the right to live your own life."

"I know but-"

"No _buts_, Clarice. That is the end of it. This is _your_ life, you live it the way that you want to." Continuous comfort and expertise hung in the Doctor's words.

"I just feel like I can't."

"You just need to take some time to think about it, it will all be clearer in a few days. I promise."

"I'm tired, Doctor. I'm so tired." Clarice's desperation had turned into tragic sighs of sadness.

"You better go to bed then. Come on." He whispered.

Clarice lifted herself and turned off the record player. Dr Lecter walked behind her, out of the library and up the stairs, he walked her all the way to her room, his hand on her back, but not inappropriately. She opened the door and stepped into her room, turning to Dr Lecter before closing it again.

"Night, Doc."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Good night, Clarice. Get some sleep."

Before he could turn she placed a very light kiss on his cheek, he seemed surprised but she didn't seem to care. Her lips were warm and her cheek was soft. She smiled at him and closed the door.

For a second, the Doctor stood still at Clarice's bedroom door, holding onto that moment. When he retired to his bed, he was replaying that second in his head, the second that Clarice's lips touched him. It only lasted one second, but it was glorious. He must have relived it a hundred times by the time that he stepped into his bed. He wanted it to happen again. He wanted more. But he would only have it if she wanted it.

Did this mean that Clarice was finally learning to trust him? He lay there with his eyes closed for a while, picturing the curves of Clarice's face and the blue of her eyes. He tried to imagine her sitting on the carpet of the library, looking up at him. And then she was singing. Before his eyes closed, Clarice was saying goodnight at her bedroom door, placing a kiss on his cheek. For that night, Dr Lecter's dreams weren't silent, but for the first time he didn't mind.

'_Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you, birds singing in the sycamore trees, dream a little dream of me…'_

Disclaimer:_ Dream a Little Dream of Me__, music by __Fabian Andre__ and __Wilbur Schwandt__, lyrics by __Gus Kahn__._


	8. Chapter 8: Berger Cookies

"Good morning, Clarice." Dr Lecter said as he entered the kitchen.

"Morning. Want something to eat?" Clarice said, looking back at Dr Lecter from the oven.

"No, thank you, I have eaten already."

"What are we doing today?"

"Well, if you feel like going out we could go to the orchestra."

"Sounds good." she said with a smile, it vanished. "I have nothing to wear."

"I'll pick something up for you."

"Oh no you don-"

"I want to, Clarice."

"Thanks." she said, embarrassment hung pink in her cheeks.

The Doctor sipped his orange juice and Clarice ate her breakfast before he left to pick some _things _up. Clarice examined herself in her bedroom mirror, running her fingers through her hair and trying to adjust the parting. She had never been to see the Baltimore symphony orchestra and she was rather excited. She wandered what the Doctor was going to choose for her to wear, hopefully less revealing than the one he chose at the lake house. She waited for the Doctor in the living room.

When she heard the front door, she darted into the foyer to meet him there. He was holding a long dress-cover in one arm and bags in the other.

"Ah, Clarice." he said when she came out of the living room. "Here, try it on." he said, handing her the dress cover and a material bag.

After ten minutes the Doctor knocked on Clarice's bedroom door. "Clarice. Does it fit?"

"Yes, perfectly. But don't come in! I don't want you to see it yet!"

Dr Lecter smiled and walked back down the stairs.

Clarice looked herself up and down in the mirror, the dress was perfect, it was emerald green and fitted, so it showcased Clarice's wonderful figure. It had ruffles down the middle and the material ended in ruffles too, it was strapless so her shoulders and arms were bare, it was a full length dress, only showing a little of her feet. Very tasteful.

The shoes were black strappy heels, with a little gold and green. They meant that Clarice would be almost as tall as the Doctor. He had also bought her some earrings, they were oval shaped, made up of tiny emeralds. They reminded Clarice of the leaves on the trees that she had walked under, only spots of sunlight visible through them.

She had a little emerald clutch bag as well. She looked at herself in the mirror and ran her hands down the rich material and over her curves. She felt good. Though there was still the issue of her hair. She changed back to her jeans and trotted down the stairs to the Doctor. He was in the living room. Clarice fell onto the sofa.

"How is everything?"

"It's all really great, fits perfectly. How did you figure out my measurements?"

"Guessed." he said with a slight guilty smile.

"Hmm. I don't know what to do with my hair."

"We'll sort that out later. Clarice, may I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you believe in God?"

"No." she replied quickly.

"Why?"

"I just find it hard to believe that there's someone up there looking after us all." she said.

"You think that if there was someone up there he would have saved your father, don't you?"

There was a little silence. "Yes. Do _you_ believe?"

"Well, I used to. But, I lost all faith in that for the same reasons as you."

"So you don't think there's anyone or anything looking after us?"

"No. I believe that we have to look after ourselves and the ones that we love."

"What made you lose faith then? What did you lose?"

"I lost the people whom I loved. And I lost faith."

"Oh." she said, looking at him with sad eyes.

She sat for a while with her elbow resting on the arm on the sofa and her fingers over her mouth, deep in thought, she didn't want to risk asking the Doctor any more about it. The Doctor sat with his fingers intertwined on his knee and his head a little down, sometimes he looked up at Clarice. It was different now. Understanding and empathy hung in the air; they could both feel it, and the silence let it hang there for a while.

"Clarice, I have the tickets for the orchestra, it's at the Joseph Meyerhoff symphony hall."

"When do we leave, Doctor?"

"Well, it starts at eight, so we'll leave at seven."

"What do we do until then?"

"I don't know, what do you want to do, Clarice?"

"I don't know. Are there any markets in Baltimore?"

"Yes, Lexington is not far from here. Would you like to go?"

"Yeah, I think so, I just want to look around."

"All right. We have to be careful, though. You've been here a few days and they may have tried to contact you, so they might be looking out for you."

"Okay. What about you, don't you need to wear a disguise or something?"

"I have that sorted. Get ready then and we'll go"

Clarice changed into lighter clothing and met the Doctor in the foyer. He was wearing dark, casual clothing. He did not wear a wig or any disguise for his face. "Dr Lecter, are you sure that's enough to avoid detection?"

"Yes, Clarice. Don't worry."

Clarice sat in the passenger seat of the Doctor's Jaguar. It was expensive and well looked-after. Dr Lecter sat beside her and started the car, turning on the air-con and the CD player. "Would you like some music on, Clarice?" He said, looking over and down at her.

"Yeah, the one from the library."

He smiled. "Okay."

They spoke over the music on the way, it aided their conversation. Dr Lecter felt that Clarice was starting to trust him more every second, she was telling him things which, he assumed, she had never spoke about before to anyone. She didn't realise it, but he was helping her. They talked about loss. Dr Lecter had long before realised that Clarice had never come to terms with her father's death, and he believed that her talking about it to someone, will help her accept it. He understood that feeling.

"It's like you're falling really fast, but you're not falling anywhere. You just stay where you are, but you're trapped. You're moving but you _can't_ move, and you're not sure if you want to move or not. That's what happens, that's what it feels like every time think about it..."

"I'm listening, Clarice, go on." Dr Lecter had turned the volume of the music down so he could listen.

"And… I get angry, I get hurt but angry all over again, he was a good man, the best. And he was just trying to protect people, but his life was taken instead. And I hate it. And then I'm falling, I'm hurt and angry and falling and stuck, and then I don't know where I am or what I'm doing. Sometimes everything seems pointless, like there's no point to life at all."

The Doctor's eyes changed when Clarice started to talk about falling, he had felt it before and he still felt it sometimes. He wanted to catch Clarice, so she didn't have to fall forever. Clarice felt a sting in her face and the rise of tears, but as they rolled down her face, the hurt and confusion that she had kept inside for so many years went with them. Dr Lecter stayed silent and listened to Clarice's voice. He parked the car a little walk away from the market. He turned in his seat and ran the side of his thumbs across Clarice's cheeks, sheets of salty water being wiped away, leaving her face a little red. She was silent with sad, red eyes.

He held her face towards his in his hands for a few seconds, he didn't need words. She closed her eyes and took in a breath and he reached over and kissed her forehead before taking his hands away from her face.

"We'll set out in a few minutes." he said.

For the few minutes that they sat there Dr Lecter's hand squeezed Clarice's tight

It took only a few minutes to reach the market from where the Doctor had parked, it was a warm day. The sign read 'WORLD FAMOUS LEXINGON MARKET SINCE 1782'. Clarice thought that the market looked artificial but happy, the outside was blue and red and it had yellow stars next to the sign. She couldn't imagine Dr Lecter shopping in a place like this every day.

They walked in together. It was busy inside, with couples, families, loners all lingering in between aisles. Clarice couldn't identify the aroma being produced by all of the food in the place but it made her hungry. There were many isles and stalls selling different kinds of food and products. Dr Lecter leaned closer to her.

"Clarice, would you like to choose something for before the orchestra?"

"Yeah. Stay close." she said, gripping the blue material on his jacket for a second.

They walked beside each other down the seafood aisle, passing signs written in huge red lettering 'SOFT CRAB','OYSTERS','OYSTERS CLAMS BEER'. It reminded Clarice of the fish market, she tried not to look around until she passed it, Dr Lecter noticed. It was like a maze, next was the meat. They had everything, chicken, rabbit, deer, lamb. Dr Lecter stopped to buy some chicken with Clarice's approval. "I feel bad about you buying all of these things for me" she said quietly in his ear as he organized his money.

"Don't. I am looking after you, Clarice." he said, taking the chicken from the butcher. "Thank you."

The part of the market dedicated to fruit was amazing, colours, some organized and some not, fruit that Clarice had never heard of, names which she couldn't pronounce if she tried. Dr Lecter watched her eyes wander and smiled in subtle amusement. He enjoyed showing Clarice things. "What would you like, Clarice?"

"Umm… I don't know, there's so much."

"Okay, we'll get some of everything." Clarice looked at him in shock expecting him to be joking but he just smiled and walked towards a very colourful fruit stall. Clarice stared at him in awe as he started to churn out the names of the fruits to the woman behind the stall, ordering at least two of everything. He handed Clarice a couple of the lightest bags to carry. Loaded with bags, they made their way back from where they came and to the exit. Dr Lecter noticed Clarice looking at a particular stall near the door, the sign reading 'BERGER COOKIES'. Dr Lecter stopped walking and Clarice followed. "Clarice, would you like some of those?"

"What are they?"

"Berger cookies, vanilla wafers with a thick layer of chocolate fudge, they derive from a German recipe but they are a Baltimore classic."

She gave him a guilty look and pretended to contemplate it, tilting her head from side to side. "Ummmm…Okay."

Dr Lecter bought ten of the largest Berger cookies for Clarice, handing the bag to her as they walked out of the market. She inhaled their amazing aroma, biting her lip, feeling a little guilty and indulgent.

"What did you think of the market, Clarice?" The Doctor asked as they walked.

"It was good, there was lots of stuff that I've never seen before. Thanks for everything, Doctor" she said, patting his arm.

"You're welcome." he replied with a little smile. They were back at the car within a few minutes. Clarice ate two cookies on the way back to the house, Dr Lecter didn't want any.

They sat the bags onto the kitchen surface and started to unpack, the chicken in the fridge, the fruit in the bowl, the cookies in the cupboard. Clarice went into the library whilst the Doctor prepared dinner.

Dinner was delicious, in all aspects. Clarice and Dr Lecter talked about the Orchestra. Afterwards, Clarice took a shower and got ready. She sat on the edge of her bed and lay her dress out flat, touching the material and running her fingers through the ruffles. She slipped into her dress and stepped into her shoes, smiling when she looked in the mirror. Her earrings swayed. She grabbed her bag and made her way down the stairs, holding onto the mahogany railing.

Dr Lecter was dressed in white tie, looking very smart. He glanced at his watch and walked into the foyer swiftly. Clarice came down the steps of the staircase, Dr Lecter stopped and turned his body. His eyes rose from her strappy shoes to her smiling face, very slowly he scanned every inch of her, his mouth open and arms hanging helplessly at his sides. Clarice gave a quick sighed laugh at him and walked down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Dr Lecter stood still. She stepped down and walked towards him, smiling with embarrassment and pride.

Dr Lecter swallowed and spoke. "You look very beautiful, Clarice."

"Thank you, you look very handsome." she said, clenching her lips together after she had said it. "Will you help me with my hair?"

"Yes." He walked her towards the mirror on the wall in the foyer, above the cabinet. Dr Lecter stood behind Clarice as she stood looking at her reflection. She had brushed through her hair beforehand. Dr Lecter moved his hands around her and swept her hair from her shoulders that so it covered most of her back. He brushed through it lightly before creating a side parting and a bun at the back of her head, and then keeping it in place with an emerald green clip decorated with a butterfly. She looked at him in the mirror.

"There you go."

She turned to face him. "Do I look all right?"

"Amazing." He said. Clarice could not hide her wide smile. "Let's go."

They arrived at the Symphony Hall. It was very busy, with well-dressed couples and groups drinking the expensive complimentary champagne and having their pictures taken. Clarice felt her stomach fall a little, but she was reassured when Dr Lecter squeezed her hand before he stepped out of the car. He handed the keys to the valet and opened Clarice's door. There was a slight stir of the crowd when Dr Lecter took Clarice's hand and helped her out. She took his arm when she stood and leaned into him.

"…Nervous." she said, trying not to look at the crowd of people watching the two of them.

"Don't be, I won't leave you alone." he said, placing his hand onto hers holding his arm.

Dr Lecter took two glasses of champagne, handing one to Clarice, before the two searched for their seats, avoiding the cameras. They sat in the centre section, seven rows back, on the two seats at the end of the row. The hall was huge and magnificent, most were seated now but they had half an hour before it started. Clarice sat for five minutes admiring the hall.

"Clarice, are you excited?"

"Yes, thanks for bringing me, Doctor."

"That's all right, I wanted you to experience this at least once, Clarice. I think you'll like it." He smiled at her.

When the show started, the lights went down and Clarice's nerves calmed. The music was magnificent, she could tell that this was one of the Doctor's greatest passions, as she often caught him with his eyes closed, inhaling deeply but silently as if he could smell the music. She smiled when she saw him doing that.

A few minutes into it, Clarice placed her right hand over the Doctor's left, lying on his leg. He looked at her and she looked at him, smiling. She wrapped her fingers around his thumb and held it tight. He liked having Clarice's hand over his that way. The only time she took it off was to clap for the orchestra at the end.

They stood for a few minutes until there was a path clear enough so that they wouldn't get caught by the cameras and then walked swiftly to get the car. Dr Lecter called the valet and the car arrived, he slipped him a tip and took the keys.

"That was wonderful." Clarice said as they drove away.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it." He replied.

Back at the house, Dr Lecter opened a bottle of wine and Clarice put her favourite record on in the library. The Doctor peered into the library and observed Clarice swaying in front of the record player, oblivious.

"Clarice, I've opened the wine." he said, suggesting she join him in the living room.

"Dr Lecter, dance with me." she said, taking his hands and pulling him into the library.

He placed his hand on her back and hers was on his over his shoulder. Their other hands were connected, held high and swaying with the music. Her temple was warm and soft against his chin, she closed her eyes but his were open the whole time. They danced to the words and breathed the melody.

'_Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss…'_

Dr Lecter liked having Clarice's body against him, he knew that she trusted him. She came away from him and looked up with lazy eyes, still dancing.

"Thank you for a wonderful night, Dr Lecter."

"You are welcome, Clarice." Their song ended. "Now, won't you join me for some wine?"

She followed him into the living room. The fireplace was dancing, casting bright yellow onto the furniture in the room. Clarice and Dr Lecter sat at opposite ends of the sofa, her legs draping over the seat in the middle and onto the Doctor's thighs. They sat sipping their wine.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something about what you said earlier?"

"Hmm."

"When you said that you lost the people whom you loved, who was it?" she asked, watching for a reply. Dr Lecter looked at her and opened his mouth to speak but sighed instead. "Doctor?"

"It was my mother, father and my sister."

"Was she younger than you?"

"My sister? Yes, when it happened she was six, I was ten."

"Is that when you were orphaned like me?"

"Yes."

"Now I know what you mean, when you said that we were alike."

"Hmmm." He nodded. "Finish your wine now Clarice, it's late."

She did as he said and drank the last drop of wine. He walked her up to her room and said goodnight. Clarice kissed his cheek, like the previous night, but lingered there for a while, then placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He held her for a second before taking her away by the shoulders and saying good night again. He had to drag himself away from her room.

Disclaimer: _Dream a Little Dream of Me__, music by __Fabian Andre__ and __Wilbur Schwandt__, lyrics by __Gus Kahn__._


	9. Chapter 9: Worry

"Morning, Doctor!" Clarice said as she skipped into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Clarice." He replied.

"Doctor, last night was really great, I had a really good time." She sat down at the table.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Breakfast?"

"Yes, please."

He handed her a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon and took the seat opposite her.

"What we doing today?"

"Well, I have to go and see someone about the Jaguar. You're welcome to come, but it will get boring." The Doctor replied.

"Hmmm. I might just stay in the library."

"All right. I have to go soon."

"Hmm." she hummed with a quick fake smile.

"I'll try not to be too long." he said, standing, kissing her forehead and leaving her with a true smile on her face.

Clarice was in the house all day waiting for the Doctor to return. When it got to five in the evening she was expecting him any minute, when it got to seven she started to worry, and at ten she almost lost her mind.

It was pouring of rain and, even though the Dr Lecter had the car, it made her worries deepen. The dark sky, the rain, it all taunted her and made her thoughts worse. She sat in the living room next to the window, wishing and pining to see the Jaguar pull up to the house. She stared out and watched, only blinking when she felt her eyed dry up. _Why hadn't he called? What if he couldn't call? What if he had been caught? _

She took solace in her records and just one glass of wine, listening to the faint as she watched out of the window. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth over and over again. With the crackle of pebbles she collected herself and opened her eyes to see the Jaguar pull up to the house, the headlights shining in her eyes for a moment.

She dropped her glass onto the table and stormed towards the door, she stepped out into the rain, the cold, grey water rolling down her shoulders and her chest, running underneath her clothing, it soaked her hair and clumped it together but she didn't care, she walked through the sharp rain to the Doctor. Dr Lecter stepped out into the rain and saw Clarice almost running towards him.

He shouted "Clarice, get insi-"

She reached him and threw a firm, hard slap onto his cheek, making him freeze for a second in shock.

"Where the hell have you been?!" she shouted over the continuous crackle of rain water hitting the pebbles and the car. "I was terrified that something had happened to you! That you had been caught! How dare you!"

"Clarice, we can talk insi-"

"No! I was so worr-" Dr Lecter grabbed her wrist and dragged her over the pebbles and into the house.

She stood in the foyer with a strong glare waiting for the Doctor to face her whilst he took his coat off and wiped his face with his hands.

He turned and faced her. "Clarice, I-"

She threw another firm slap at him and his mouth dropped a little. "How dare you? I was worried sick, I thought that you had been caught, or that you were hurt or something!"

"I'm sorry, Clarice. The work on the car took a little longer than I expected."

"A _little_?!"

"Okay, a lot. And I ran into some obstacles on the way which needed sorting." he said calmly.

She noticed a little red spot on his collar and threw her hands onto his chest, searching around frantically for more. He got a grip on her wrists and stopped her.

"It's alright."

"You're not hurt?"

"No."

"Oh, thank god." she said in a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and resting her forehead under his chin, still gripping at his shirt.

"Let's have a drink." he said, taking her away from him and walking into the living room. He poured some wine and handed a glass to Clarice whilst she dried every place that she could in front of Dr Lecter with a towel, then he put the fire on. Clarice sat in front of it with a towel around her head and Dr Lecter sat on the sofa, watching the fire for a while.

She stood and walked over to the sofa, placing her glass on the table. Clarice lowered herself down and lay her head on the Doctor's lap, facing the fire and watching it dance. Dr Lecter swept her hair away from her neck and ran a finger over her skin softly, over her collarbone and jaw line, she closed her eyes and breathed.

"Dr Lecter?"

"Yes?"

"Where are you going after this? After you take me back to Virginia?"

"I may go and stay in England for a while and then I'll probably move again." he explained.

"Hmm."

"Have you ever been to England, Clarice?" he asked.

"No." she said in a yawn.

"You should visit there."

"Maybe I will some day. Where in England are you going?"

"Maybe London."

Clarice sat up abruptly. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

"Okay." The Doctor observed her, it seemed that something had upset her.

"Night." she said. She disappeared out of the room but reappeared within two seconds. "Doctor," she said, going back to sit by him.

"Yes, Clarice?"

"I've been thinking and…Maybe you were right about everything you said the other day. About me seeing the world. And it's all clearer now, so I was thinking…"

"Go on."

"Maybe instead of going back to Virginia and to the FBI, maybe I could come with you, to England, and then wherever else." she said with hope.

"As much as I would love for you to come with me, I don't think that it's best for you."

"Why not?" she said with a sudden frown.

"Because I am a wanted man, Clarice. I will forever run and I'll always be hiding. I can't give you the free life that you want and deserve."

"But I don't care about being free, Doctor, in these few days at this house with you I have felt happier than in all of my years of working with the FBI. Dr Lecter, I want to come with you." she said desperately.

"I'm sorry, Clarice, but the answer is no, I can't give yo-"

"Bullshit! You just don't want me around!"

"Clarice, that's not true. I care about you and I want you to be happy. But coming with me will not make you happy."

"You don't care about me, you _can't_ care about me, or anyone else, you only care about yourself!" she said, standing and shaking her head, tears stinging her eyes.

"And why is that, Clarice?" he said with impatience, a note that didn't appear often.

"Because you're insane!" she blurted out loudly. Clarice's mouth closed when she realised what she had said, whilst Dr Lecter stared at her with a blank face as though nothing had happened. She looked at him with hurt in her eyes and then went to her room.

She waited a little while after Dr Lecter went to bed and then approached his room. She stood behind his door for a second, listening intently for any movement but there was none, so she pushed the door a couple of centimetres and peered in. It was dark inside but she could make out the sleeping body of Dr Lecter, on his back and facing the ceiling. The covers ended at his waist and his arms lay above them.

Clarice slipped in the room and closed the door carefully, she crept over the floorboard and sat on the edge of the bed. The Doctor awoke but did not open his eyes.

Clarice shifted his arm upwards, so that it lay straight across the empty side of the bed, and lowered herself down onto him, placing her head on his shoulder and her arm across him.

"Doctor?" she asked, he felt her breath on his neck and his heart ran a marathon.

He breathed. "Yes, Clarice?"

"Sorry." she whispered.

"Apology accepted." he said.

"I really want to come with you."

"You don't know what you want yet."

"I _do_. I know exactly what I want. Listen- In these few days you have treated me better and showed me more than in my ten years of working with the FBI, I have felt safer and happier with you. And I don't want to go back to being unhappy. Please take me with you, Dr Lecter."

He wrapped his arms around her as she lay on his chest and sighed.

"Please, Doctor." she said desperately.

There was some silence. "Okay, Clarice."

"Really?!"

"Yes." he said, smiling. "Now sleep, we'll sort everything out in the morning. Sleep."

She climbed beneath the covers. He felt her smile as she nestled into him and relaxed, he kept his arms around her and slept with his little Starling breathing regularly on him, sighing and murmuring in her sleepy voice and making him smile again and again.


	10. Chapter 10: Mr and Mrs Mills

Clarice awoke beneath the warm sheets of Dr Lecter's bed; she climbed out and went downstairs, high on the memory of being encased in his arms the night before. Dr Lecter was in the living room with a couple of large and empty suitcases, he looked up at Clarice when she entered the room and smiled at the sight of her. He, too, was still pleased at the events of the previous night.

"Good morning, Clarice."

"Morning. We're going today?"

"Tonight."

"Ah" she nodded and took a seat on the sofa. "Are we going to wear disguises and what about our IDs, passports?"

"I need to go and pick it all up today; the wigs, passports, money."

"_Wigs_?"

"Yes, unless you want to dye your hair."

"No, no, wigs will be fine."

He nodded and smiled in amusement. "I have to go soon."

"Can I come?"

"Of course. Go and change and then we'll go."

They drove into downtown Baltimore. Clarice felt uneasy and seemed to sink into her seat when driving past the derelict buildings and the gangs of youths admiring the car, Dr Lecter noticed. "Don't worry, we'll only be five minutes."

"I don't think that this is the best place to park a car like this, Doctor." she said, looking up at him.

"It will be fine."

They parked in front of a large grey warehouse, there were other cars parked around the Jaguar, but none as expensive or well looked-after. Clarice peered around her when she stepped out and quickly rushed around the car to Dr Lecter, taking his arm, he patted her hand and they walked inside. She wasn't worried about being caught or recognised in an area like this, but the area itself made her uneasy, it was so bland and depressing.

Inside, there were more cars, some broken and some not. Clarice assumed that it was a garage, there were men operating heavy machinery on some of the cars, some underneath the cars and some searching beneath the bonnet. Their profession didn't make her trust them any more.

They walked past the entrance.

"Stay here." he whispered to her, letting go of her arm.

Dr Lecter walked further into the garage and left Clarice by the door. Clarice admired the _way_ that he walked, confident and expensive, his long grey coat flowing behind him slightly. A dark-haired man in blue overalls stained with grease met the Doctor, he had thick orange gloves on and was holding a wad of papers and files. Clarice watched them cautiously.

The man looked Clarice up and down before turning to Dr Lecter. They talked quietly in whispers and murmurs, Clarice tried to listen but they were too far away. The Doctor handed the man something and took the papers, and then walked back to Clarice.

"That it?"

"Yes."

"Good." she said, taking his arm again.

"We need to go and pick up the disguises and the money."

"Where we getting the money?"

"I have some stashed away in a house a little while from here."

Clarice was glad when they drove out of the area and into a lighter one. They travelled past little shops and cafes, stopping at one of the smallest, the sign read 'MORGAN'S WIGS'. Dr Lecter handed Clarice a few notes.

"Why don't you go and get some breakfast?" he said with a smile, pointing to a little café. "I'll get the wigs."

"Do you want anything?"

"No, thank you, Clarice. I shall only be around ten minutes, you can eat in the café."

She gave him a fake smile with sad eyes. "Okay."

Dr Lecter went into the Morgan's Wigs and Clarice crossed the road and pushed the door of 'Sara's Cafe'. There weren't many people inside and Clarice felt better when she realised that it was a young woman behind the counter. She ordered toast and a coffee and sat by the window, watching the door to the wig shop continuously. Though the service was friendly and the coffee was good, she didn't want to stay in the café for any longer than she had to. When she saw the door open and the Doctor appear she stood and left the café.

"Now, we only have to get the money." he said, sitting next to her in the car.

"What about my things, Doctor? There are certain things that I would like to take with me."

"We could go back there and then fly from Virginia tonight, I haven't booked the tickets yet."

"Okay." she said.

They drove a little further past the shops into a small neighbourhood, Clarice was worried that the Jaguar would attract attention but there seemed to be no one around. They stopped in front of a small, handsome looking house; Clarice could imagine a small family living there with a dog. Dr Lecter went into the house and emerged with a heavy brown bag.

"We need to pack." he said, before starting the car.

Back at the house, Clarice took her suitcase up to her room and emptied the contents of her wardrobe onto her bed. She picked up her emerald green dress and held it against her face, nestling into the soft material and placed it in the suitcase, folded neatly. Next were her short dresses, and then her jeans and then her tops.

She was dressed in a cream suit that the Doctor had provided, part of her disguise, it was very smart and expensive but she would never wear it by choice, it was far too old for her. She dragged her suitcase down the stairs and left it in the foyer. Dr Lecter stood in a blue sports kit with white stripes running down it and a blue cap.

Clarice spun when he looked at her, her hand spread out beside her like the sides of scales. "How do I look?"

"Very smart." he said. "What about me?"

"You look fantastic!" she said, laughing. He laughed and handed her the passport.

"We are Howard and Virginia Mills, from Baltimore, married, fifty and thirty-five." he said. "Teacher of physical education, librarian."

"Hmm." she said, scanning the photo of her with short black hair.

"Let's see how the wig fits you." he said, taking it carefully out of the bag and approaching Clarice.

"Tie your hair up".

She did and he positioned the wig on her on her head, it was itchy and irritating on her scalp.

"You can take it off for now but you need to have it on at the airport and throughout the flight. We won't have time to change at your house, flight leaves at eleven. We can colour your eyebrows."

They locked the big house up for the last time and travelled to Virginia. It took them two and a half hours to reach Clarice's house, which gave them an hour before leaving for the airport as Dr Lecter wanted to get there at least an hour before the flight. Clarice slept and Dr Lecter drove.

He stroked Clarice's cheek when he parked the car. "Clarice," she stirred. "We're here."

They left their suitcases in the car and entered the dark house. Clarice stood for a second in her living room, an unusual sadness swept over her as she looked over her possessions, her TV, her sofa, her coffee table, she was leaving it tall behind. She noticed the photos of Dr Lecter's victims on her coffee table, she left them there and went upstairs.

Dr Lecter took steps into Clarice's house, he observed it, he had been there before but only for a few minutes. He looked around at the bland furniture. He was so glad to be taking Clarice away from it. He stepped through her living room and looked at the photographs on her coffee table; it had been a long time since he had seen the people in them. He approached the flashing phone and pressed the answering machine, there were four messages. _Beep._

"_Clarice, where are you doll? I'm worried about you, call me back hun! Miss you, Ardelia"_

_Beep._

"_Starling, it's Pearsall. Get down her as soon as possible, something's come up and we need you. Listen, just forget about everything with the press, the investigation, rise above it. Get back here, Starling"_

_Beep._

"_Baby Starling! Listen, I'm finally free this Saturday if you want to go for lunch, I think we should, it feels like haven't seen you in fo-_"

_Beep._

Dr Lecter stopped and erased the messages, he knew that Clarice was listening on the stairs. He took steps upstairs, Clarice was gone. He observed her sitting on the edge of her bed looking down on what seemed to be a photograph, he heard her tears fall onto it and the quick sighs of breath escaping her lips. She didn't look up when he entered the room.

He sat beside her and placed an arm around her.

She looked at him and leaned on his shoulder. "I'm alright. It's just… I don't know, I miss Ardelia. She didn't abandon me, she _really was _busy, but now _I'm_ leaving _her._"

Dr Lecter looked down at the photo of Clarice and Ardelia together in a swimming pool, arms interlinked and faces touching.

"Why don't you leave her something? A note or a letter." he suggested in a soft whisper.

"Saying what?"

"Whatever you want her to know."

"But then they will know that I left with you." she sniffed.

"Let them think what they want, they'll never catch us." he said, wiping her face with his hands.

"Come on, we need to get going. What else do you need?"

She stood. "Just some clothes, I have room in my suitcase… there are photographs." she said, pulling out a small cardboard box from under her bed. She took the lid off, there were hundreds of photographs. She sniffed "Can I take them?"

"Yes, put them in your case."

She picked one up and handed it to Dr Lecter.

"Is this you and your father?" he said, looking down on the small, scrawny girl sitting on a skinny gentleman's lap in what he assumed to be a kitchen. They were holding oranges.

"Yeah."

She gave him the box and he flicked through a few whilst Clarice searched through her chest of drawers. She took out some of her best underwear and some paperwork, her birth certificate, paperwork from the FBI.

She searched the bottom drawer and took out a teddy bear, the fur had all fallen out and there was an eye missing. Dr Lecter caught Clarice holding it tight against her chest for a moment. She walked on her knees over to Dr Lecter and put the paperwork in the box, he moved the hair that was stuck down to her cheek with salty water.

Clarice left an envelope on her pillow addressed to Ardelia Mapp, there was a letter inside, it read: 'We will forever be sisters, I love you. Clarice'

Clarice locked her front door for the last time, the Doctor stood at the car with the bag of photographs, paperwork and underwear and watched her, she lingered there for a while, teddy bear in hand, there were no more tears.

The airport was not far. Clarice and Dr Lecter adjusted their wigs, Clarice's hair was short and black and her eyebrows were coloured in with pencil, Dr Lecter's hair was a light brown, mostly hidden beneath his cap.

They were Howard and Virginia Mills, five years married, no children, fifty and thirty-five, PE teacher and librarian. They checked their bags in at the desk and waited for their flights, sipping coffee.

"We're flying economy." he said "We need to blend in, I hope you don't mind."

"No, no that's fine. I've never been in anything _but_ economy." she said, raising the coffee to her lips and peering around her.

"There's no need to worry." he said. "I have done this many times, we'll be fine."

"What's the weather like in England in August?"

"Hot, most of the time." he said.

They bought sandwiches and bottles or water before heading to check in at the terminal. Clarice felt tension build inside and press against her chest as they moved up in the queue, it was like watching lightning strike in slow motion.

The woman at the check-in desk was very artificial, blonde hair pinned up and covered by the hideous blue hat that came with the rest of the uniform, eyebrows coloured brown though her hair was blonde, thick pink lipstick topped off with an unhealthy amount of gloss, and a fake smile, showcasing her gleaming white teeth, newly bleached.

"Hello, may I see your passports and tickets please?" she said with a wide smile.

She took their passports and scanned their faces, lingering on Dr Lecter's a little too much, and then closing them, pleased. Clarice tried to hide her distaste. She looked at their tickets and handed them back.

"Thank you, if you'd like to make your way all the way down to the plane where you'll be seated, thank you and enjoy your flight."

"Thank you." Dr Lecter said as he passed her, giving her a smile that Clarice thought was a bit too friendly.

She gave him a glance which clearly showed that she was not impressed and walked a little ahead of him down the tunnel. She stepped into the plane and struggled through the aisle, between the other passengers, glancing up at the seat numbers and then down at her ticket. She found her seat and finally sat down, she was next to the window, the Doctor's seat was next to hers. He struggled through the aisle, put the bags in the overhead space, sat next to her and sighed in exhaustion.

"I thought that I had lost you there for a second." he said, moving in his seat.

"Hmm." she said, looking out of the window at the concrete.

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"_Okay._" he said with a little sarcasm.

"I'm not upset." she said, turning to him and kissing the end of his nose. "We _have_ to look married." she said, justifying the kiss and smiling. He took her hand and looked into her eyes for a second before she shook it and breathed in.

"What do we do when we get there?"

"Go to the hotel, it's very nice."

"We in the same suite…or?"

"We are in the library suite." he said with a quick smile.

She looked at her hands. "How long is the flight?"

"Well, it should be around eight hours, it will be midday there when we arrive. Are you tired?"

"Yeah."

"You go to sleep then."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I need to stay awake and keep watch."

"Are you sure? We could take turns."

"No, you sleep. I'll make up for it in the hotel."

She nodded and watched the passengers emerge from the tunnel. Her eyes moved towards a tall gentleman in a grey suit, he had a strong facial structure and thick grey eye-brows.

"Oh god." she whispered, loud enough for Dr Lecter to hear.

"What?" he asked, looking in the direction that Clarice was.

"That guy over there… I've seen him before… he was there after the Drumgo thing and I saw him a couple of times with Krendler."

She watched him, her nostrils flared a little and fret in her eyes. She searched her brain.

"Bob Sneed… BATF" she said, turning to Dr Lecter. "Oh God, what do we do?"

"Watch where his seat is and keep your head down if he passes."

They both watched him carefully but subtly. He looked up at the seat numbers and down at his ticket repeatedly, he moved forwards towards their seats, grunting angrily as she shifted through people. At only a few rows in front of Mr and Mrs Mills he took his seat, he seemed to be alone. Clarice breathed out in relief. They sat waiting for the plane to move for twenty minutes, for which time they kept alert. Dr Lecter took a blanket from the flight attendant walking between the aisles with a trolley.

"Sleep." he said to Clarice, covering her with it. She turned to her side and rested her head on the Doctor's shoulder, holding onto his arm with both of hers.

The plane lifted into the night air and started on the journey from Virginia to London. It carried families, couples, loners, business men, business women, and Mr and Mrs Mills. Mrs Mills slept for a while, peacefully resting on her husband whilst he stayed wide awake, probably eager to reach England. They were on vacation, you see. Mrs Mills woke a few times during the flight, a crying child, the pilot's voice through the intercom, the plane travelling through turbulence; Mr Mills held her hand and hushed her back to sleep.

"I can't sleep with those kids a few rows behind." she said as she turned in her seat lazily.

"We're only about an hour away now."

"Anything happened with Sneed?" she asked quietly.

"He walked past a couple of times but didn't look over here."

"Good. You tired?"

"I'll sleep at the hotel. Hungry?" he asked her.

"Yeah." He handed her a sandwich.

"Thanks" she said, opening it. "Want some?"

"No, I have eaten already." he said.

"I'm looking forward to it"

"To England or the sandwich?" he said, looking at her with a smile.

"England" she laughed.

"I'm glad." he said.

"What's the hotel called?"

"The Royal Horseguards, apparently offers a magnificent view of the River Thames."

"Sounds nice. How long are we staying there?"

"I'm not sure, it depends on how we like it there."

"I can't eat this." she said, closing the box and handing it back. "I'm too nervous."

"Don't be." he said, taking her hand in his. "Everything is going to be all right."


	11. Chapter 11: Escape

The plane landed at Heathrow airport at 11:37 AM, August the fourth, a Saturday. The passengers clapped when the wheels touched the ground and Mrs Mills awoke again, her husband patted her hand gently.

"We're in London." he whispered into her ear.

She looked up excitedly and peered out of the window. They waited for the other passengers to leave before standing. The air was warm but the gusts of wind from the plane blew into their faces as they stepped down from the plane. They searched for their bags and made their way out of the airport, keeping their heads down from the cameras. In the airport's car park, Dr Lecter had a car waiting.

"It should be around her somewhere…" he said, scanning the cars around them.

"What colour is it?"

"Black… Ah, there it is." They walked through the cars to the black BMW, model Activehybrid 7. Clarice raised her eyebrows in approval.

"Good choice."

They put their cases in the back of the car and got in. The interior was very smart, in cream and grey, the seats were cushioned and comfortable, and there was more than enough leg room.

"Ooo." Clarice said excitedly. Dr Lecter looked at her and smiled.

"Do you know your way around London, Dr Lecter?"

"Well, that depends on how much I can remember, I lived here briefly. We should be all right and if not, I have maps." he said, starting the car. "Are you hungry? We could stop somewhere on the way to the hotel if you like"

"No, no, go straight there. I want you to get some sleep."

They drove into Whitehall Court, took the bags out and gave the keys to the valet, Dr Lecter was sad to leave the car. Inside, the ceiling was high and the floor was tiled, there was a lot of cream. There was a bar to one side of the foyer and a lounge to the other, decorated in reds, grey and cream. There was a large glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a very expensive hotel. They approached the check-in desk and the man behind it, standing tall and rigid like a soldier. Dr Lecter spoke.

"Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Mills, we're booked into the library suite." he said politely.

The man behind the desk smiled and typed on his computer, he was dressed smartly in a grey suit and red tie.

"Ah yes, Mr and Mrs Mills. Here are your keys, and if you would like anything to eat or drink, or any of the services that we provide, there is a menu in your room, enjoy your stay." he said, handing them two sets of keys. "Would you like some help with your bags?"

"No thank you, I think that we can manage." Dr Lecter said with a smile. They walked towards the lift, where another member of the staff, standing tall like a statue, pressed the button for them and smiled. Their room was three floors up.

Clarice felt excitement and suspense bubble up inside of her as Dr Lecter unlocked the door to their suite. He opened the door for her, she stepped inside and stopped, staring in awe. It was decorated in sumptuous reds and gold, clearly inspired by literature with the tables patterned and structured as if they were books stacked on top of each other, and a full bookcase, there was a small dining table and a few chairs, golden with circular patterns across the top. The material on the long cream curtains and the bright red sofas was soft and heavily patterned, but vey tasteful. Clarice stood with her mouth open, she could imagine royalty staying there. Dr Lecter set the bags down next to Clarice.

"I knew you would like it." he said.

"It's… it's so brilliant" she said, struggling to find the words.

He picked the suitcases up again and carried them into the bedroom, Clarice following. The bedroom was decorated in beige, red and brown. The bed was huge and the covers were of Egyptian linen, cream with a set of red and brown stripes near the top. The linen shined. There were three big red cushions leaning against the headboard, decorated with golden swirls. There was a set of three steps in the room, leading up to a small passage where Clarice assumed the bathroom to be.

"Clarice, you're sleeping here, I-"

"But there's only one bedroom."

"Yes, I am sleeping on the sofa."

"No you are not." she said plainly and assertively. "We can both sleep in here."

"Okay." Dr Lecter said, subtle embarrassment hung in his cheeks.

They started to unpack their things; they had two drawers and half of the wardrobe each. Clarice bit her bottom lip when she came to her underwear but hid the embarrassment and put them in one of her drawers. She sat on the floor with her suitcase, taking her dresses out.

"Doctor," she said, holding her emerald dress, he looked at her. "I love this dress."

"So do I." he said with a wink.

"Bet that this room was expensive." she said, feeling a little guilty.

"It was but don't worry, we have more than enough money."

"Dr Lecter, I hope that you don't mind me asking, but where did you get all of the money for the car, the hotel, the flights?"

"Well, I always saved money in case I ever needed it and then when I got caught the money was waiting for me. And I was born into a wealthy family anyway."

"You were born in Lithuania, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Did you live in a big house?" she watched him.

"A castle."

"A castle!?" she said, her mouth opening.

"Yes." he said, smiling at her enthusiasm "Lecter castle."

"Wow." she whispered.

When they had finished unpacking they went into the suite. Clarice sat down and scanned the menu, she considered ordering something.

"Clarice, order whatever you want."

"Are you going to bed?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"I think I will try and get some sleep for a couple of hours, what are you going to do?"

"Eat, I'm starving. You want me to order you anything?"

"No thank you, Clarice. Will you wake me up at four if I'm not up?" he said with a smile

"Of course." she said to him before he disappeared into the bedroom.

Clarice ordered just a chicken salad and ate it all, it filled her up and her nerves from the flight had finally calmed. It was four o'clock and Dr Lecter was still soundly asleep. She opened the door to the bedroom and peered in, Dr Lecter was sleeping on his back, his arms above the covers, perfectly straight. She sat on the edge of the bed but the Doctor lay asleep still.

She leaned over him and stroked his forehead, her other hand on his chest. He stirred for a second and opened his eyes, they met Clarice's familiar pale blue.

"I didn't want to wake you but it's four now." she whispered over him.

"Thank you, Clarice." he said, touching her hair swaying above him. He sat up and brought his legs over the side of the bed to sit beside Clarice. "I'm taking you out at eight."

"Where?"

"Surprise." he said. Clarice scrunched up her nose playfully. Dr Lecter went into the bathroom.

Clarice was in front of the dresser in the bedroom, wearing only a thin night dress so that she could change quickly after she had finished her makeup. Dr Lecter had been out for an hour when he returned, the bedroom door was open, he went in to Clarice.

"Clarice, I have something for you." he said, holding up the long dress-cover. He felt heat rise beneath his cheeks when she stood and walked over, wearing a very thin and very short night dress.

"Oh, Doctor, another dress? You really didn't have to. Thank you!" she said, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Clarice, we'll leave in a couple of hours. Oh, I almost forgot" he said, picking up a material bag from the floor. "The shoes.£

"Thank you!"

He left her to get ready. Dr Lecter waited for her next to the bookcase, scanning he books, he was dressed very smartly, in white tie, he was not wearing his wig. Clarice emerged from the bedroom in a sleek red dress, thin straps and a very low cut back, revealing her skin, but she didn't mind. She held a black shawl around her shoulders. She did not wear a wig; her hair was long, straight and back to auburn. Her heels were black and strappy. He watched her as she approached him, she smiled and watched his eyes.

"Just one more thing." he said, taking her to the mirror and turning her so that she looked at her reflection.

He took a necklace and lifted over head, it was a gold chain with a tear-shaped ruby hanging from it, with four smaller rubies on either side. She sighed and clenched her bottom lip with her teeth when she saw it, looking through the reflection at the Doctor, in admiration. He fastened it and lifted her hair up over it.

"You look beautiful, Clarice."

"Me? No, look at you." she said, turning. "You look great." He noticed a shiny tear in her eye.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." she whispered, raising her hands and holding his face. Her gaze moved between each of his eyes and to his lips. She kissed his cheek.

"Thank you so much, Dr Lecter." she said, bringing her hands back down.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

"Yeah." she sniffed, with a dry face.

The two walked to the pier, where Dr Lecter had a small boat waiting with staff to wait on them and cook for them, they ate lamb. Whilst eating, they sipped very expensive champagne and exchanged quick glances of admiration, Clarice felt her heart jump a little when she caught him looking at her. The River Thames was lit up, even though it wasn't that dark, each boat had strings of bright lights and hotel windows glowed in the distance.

It was so different to Baltimore and Virginia, and Clarice was glad. After dinner, she stood with her glass at the edge of the boat, admiring the London Eye, gleaming with blue metallic lights, very slowly moving around and around, a constant reminder of her escape. Clarice liked that. The breeze swayed her auburn hair and rippled the red material of her dress. The lights played upon her face. Dr Lecter joined her, he stood behind her and held her bare back for a second, her skin was soft.

"This has been so amazing." she said, turning to him and leaning on the side of the boat.

"I'm glad that you have enjoyed it." he said. She looked at him with a fraction of a sad frown and then turned to face the orange sky.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking about how you saved me. I can't tell you how grateful I am. I can hardly believe that I'm here, still." she laughed and sighed at the same time. "Do you remember the first time that we met? The _very first_ time?"

"Yes." he whispered, facing the sky as she did, shoulders touching. "Like it was yesterday."

"I was so terrified of you, but now… now, I'm so…" she struggled to find the word. "_Thankful_, thankful for you, for what you've done for me. I've never felt so cared for" she said, facing him with a solemn smile. He looked at her and walked back to the table, picking up the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and returning to Clarice.

They walked, arm in arm, back to their hotel room, Dr Lecter struggling to keep his eyes open. Clarice changed into a night dress and Dr Lecter into pyjamas. He sat up in bed, with a book; he didn't want to fall asleep before Clarice did. Clarice emerged from the bathroom, hair tied up and make-up off. She climbed into bed next to Dr Lecter and lay down.

"What you reading?"

"A book on Dante."

"Can I read it with you?"

"If you wish." he said, lifting his right arm and letting Clarice climb up.

She settled into him, her temple on his chin and head turned to the side so she could read. She didn't understand the language in the book or the terms referred to, nor was she familiar with Dante. She was aware that she wouldn't understand it. She looked at the pages for only a couple of minutes before her eyes closed and her body relaxed onto the Doctor.

He closed his book and set Clarice down on her side of the bed before lying down on his and closing his eyes.

Clarice opened her eyes and turned to Dr Lecter. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and some rolled down the sides of his face, he was moving fast and unevenly in little shocks, like a fit of some sort, and it was like he was trying to sleep-talk, but he couldn't, and instead it was coming out in murmurs and grunts. She tried to shake him from his dream, "Doctor!" she shook him by the arms "Dr Lecter! Wake up!"

Dr Lecter opened his eyes and Clarice backed away a little, maybe it was the lighting of the room but at that moment it seemed that the red sparks had taken over the maroon completely.

"Dr Lecter? You had a bad dream." she whispered desperately. He looked at her, unable to speak. "Doctor?"

He shook himself from her grasp and sat up abruptly, offending Clarice a little. He stood and walked over to the wardrobe, removing his pyjama top and taking out a thin t -shirt.

Clarice admired the muscle on his back and bit her bottom lip, she wondered if he meant to excite her. He didn't hear her stand and approach him as he fumbled with the folded t shirt.

He raised his head as he felt her cold hands press lightly on his back and then her fingertips run up and down in the arc between his muscles. She heard his quivered breaths. He turned and looked down into the blue, she looked up and then to his chest. His skin was tanned lightly and he had muscle, not enough to be _too_ prominent but it was there and she could feel it. She ran her finger over two circular-shaped scars under his chest.

"What happened here?" she whispered.

"Will Graham's work."

She touched a long thin scar which rose from his hip and ran her finger up and down it, making him shiver inside. "And this?"

"Boating accident." he said. She didn't really believe him.

He took her hands and bought them up to his lips, kissing her wrists and moving up to her palms and her fingers, inhaling the scent of her skin. She lead him to the bed where he lay down and she leaned over him and ran her hands over his scars, kissing them all gently and carefully. She moved up to his lips and kissed him, finally. Nothing had ever been so satisfying and pleasurable, so soul-tingling and mind-blowing. She melted in his grasp and lay on him, hands on his chest and helping to balance whilst he held her face lingered on her lips. Then, he leaned over her and sunk into her neck, his warm breath raised bumps over her skin as she hummed and sighed, holding his face to her body and calling his name.

There, Clarice trusted Dr Lecter with her body and her mind, and Dr Lecter made love to Clarice as he had hungered to for so long. Their bodies became sweaty as they moved together, Clarice moaned his name whilst the doctor stayed silent, letting out only rushed breaths and sighs. She held onto him tight and squeezed his skin, scratching him a few times but not enough to really hurt. Clarice felt safe and loved, encased in Dr Lecter's arms as he held her tired and naked body, stroking her smooth skin and caressing her curves, she lay on his chest and slept in complete silence.


	12. Chapter 12: Lecter Castle

Clarice woke up and smiled. When she realised that she was naked she remembered what had happened on the previous night. She felt unusually light and relieved; she had no worries at all, stretching her arms out sighing loudly. Wrapped in a thin sheet, she went into the lounge; there was no sign of the Doctor so she waited there for him. When he came through the door, she stood and gave him a little guilty smile. He approached her and took her in his arms, swaying with her for a moment.

"Dr Lecter,"

"Oh Clarice, I think you can call me Hannibal now."

"Hannibal…" she whispered and smiled.

"Yes?"

"Last night," she said. "Was really great, I mean _really great_."

"I agree," he said into her ear. "What do you want to do today?"

"Well, I thought that, maybe… we could… stay in today."

"Hmm. And do what exactly?"

"I don't know…"

"Mmm. Well, I was thinking that we could look at some places to rent today."

"Really?"

"Yes, go and get ready."

Clarice stepped into the shower and let the warm water run through her hair and over her body. She stood for a while, recalling the events of the previous night in as much detail as possible and taking some guilty pleasure from it. She hadn't felt that good in such a long time.

Hannibal opened the shower door slowly.

Clarice didn't realise that he was standing there until he said her name over the continuous crackle of water. She looked at him through the hot steam and smiled.

"Hi," she said. "I thought we didn't have time for this" she said, resting her arms on his chest and looking up.

"There's always time for _this._" he said, leaning in to her.

After their shower, they dressed and made their way to the first house, only ten minutes from their hotel. It was very large and expensive and stood with a few similar around it, detached. It reminded Clarice of the house in Baltimore, very homely and graceful but large and magnificent. She could imagine herself living there.

" I like this one." she said to Hannibal as they entered the living room.

It had high ceilings and a lot of space. Their voices echoed around and travelled back to them, as did their footsteps.

"Yes, so do I." he said. "Do you want it?"

She laughed at him. "You can't just choose a house because I want it, you have to love it."

"I do love it, but I love something else even more."

She turned to him with curious eyes, they were alone for a while. "And what's that?"

"…It's not important." he said, turning away playfully and scanning the room again.

She smacked his arm and walked ahead into the foyer. The whole house was wonderful, there were many spare rooms which they wouldn't need though, not yet anyway. They left the house and visited a couple more, but none were as nice as the first. Every house which she saw, Clarice would compare to the first and shake her head. Hannibal knew she had found her home already. They returned to their hotel, still avoiding staff and cameras, keeping their heads down and taking caution at every turn.

That evening they stayed in with a bottle of champagne and a couple of old movies on the wide television, _Roman Holiday _first and then _Casablanca_. She sat up from lying on his lap.

"Hannibal?" There was still something amazingly pleasurable about hearing her speak the syllables of his name.

"Yes?" he asked, sipping.

"I need to ask you something."

"Go on then."

"Don't get angry, I just… need to know."

"Go, Clarice."

"Did you ever… kill a woman? Or were they all men?"

"I'm sure that my case file back at Quantico identified me as the killer of a young woman. You studied my case for so long, you should know if I did or not."

"I know what the files say, I'm asking _you. _Did you ever kill a woman?"

He looked at her with those eyes, taking his time to answer. "Yes."

"Why?"

"It's not important, Clarice."

"It is to me."

"Why? Are you afraid that I am going to hurt you?"

"No. But-"

"You think that if I _did_ kill a woman then I am capable of hurting you, don't you?"

She took his glass and put it on the table and then sat on his lap, facing him. She held his face with both hands, a centimetre away from hers, looking into his eyes.

"I love you, Hannibal Lecter, and I trust you completely. I trust you with my life."

He placed his hands over hers and spoke without blinking or moving his eyes away from hers. "I love you, Clarice Starling."

"Can you believe this?"

"What's not to believe?"

"_This. _Can you believe that we've gone from that awkward first meeting in Baltimore asylum to _this_?"

"Yes." he replied simply, kissing her nose. His mind flashed to when he used to lie in his cot for hours, imagining his life with Clarice, only being able to touch her in his head. He felt disbelief when he thought about his life now.

"What about the house then? Do you want it?"

She looked up into his eyes and then down again, thinking, contemplating if she would be comfortable living in London for years. "Yeah."

"All right. We'll sort it tomorrow."

"What about furniture and everything?"

"We can go shopping. And yes…" he said. "We can have a library."

She smiled happily and tilted her head around. "And maybe… that room upstairs could make a decent nursery…"

He raised and eye brow as if to judge, but he wasn't. "Maybe."

"It can be _our own_ little Lecter Castle."

He felt unusually proud of her at that moment. Clarice frowned. A shadow of misery fell over the blue of her eyes and she looked down at her hands.

"What's on your mind?"

"I miss Dee. Do you think that she has my letter by now?"

"Well, that depends if they have tried to contact you again, if they have searched your house. It's unlikely."

"She'll be angry. Can't I just phone her? It would only be a five minute call."

"No, Clarice, I wish that you could. But you can't."

Her head turned to the window where a few raindrops fell and rolled down, she was still sat on his lap. "Let's go to bed."


	13. Chapter 13: A New Life

After five more days at the Royal Horseguards, Clarice and Hannibal moved into their new home in London, it had a magnificent view of the London Eye and the river Thames, with Clarice adored, and it was very spacious and elegant, which Hannibal appreciated.

Clarice woke a while after Hannibal and looked at the newspaper that he had left on the table in their lightly decorated kitchen, next to the fresh flowers. The headline, in a stern bold print, didn't agree with her stomach.

'_AMERICAN FBI AGENT CLARICE STARLING MISSING.'_

She opened it and read the article, spread over a few pages. It included her letter, they had read it before giving it to Ardelia. There were a few press photos of Ardelia leaving her home, she didn't live far from where Clarice used to and she was wearing sunglasses to hide her puffy eyes and her head was bowed down.

Clarice felt painful guilt seer through her and suddenly, she had a headache.

There were also some photos of Clarice's home; her living room, her bedroom, the photos lying on the coffee table. And some of Clarice, similar to how Ardelia looked, sunglasses on and head bowed down. They were taken after the Evelda Drumgo killing and then after Chesapeake lake house.

_Eugh, shake the memories, that's the past. This is my life now. This._

The article said that Clarice hadn't answered calls in days and that she hadn't been seen by neighbours, though there was no sign of a struggle in her house. Her car was gone. She stared at the photos of the troubled Ardelia and didn't look up when Hannibal walked in.

"Are you all right?" he asked, running his hand through her hair swiftly.

She looked up at him with glassy eyes. "Yeah… just feel bad."

"I know. She'll be fine."

"Do you think that they'll find out? That it was you I went away with?"

"Yes. They will search your house and if they don't find anything there, they'll assume it was me anyway."

"They always bring you up when it's something to do with me."

"I know they do. Ardelia will be fine." he said, smiling at her. "Now, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" she said, standing and wrapping her arms around him.

"Yes, come." he said, taking her hands. "Close your eyes."

She laughed and closed them, he stood behind her and held her arms, taking her to one of the empty rooms downstairs.

"Can I open them yet?"

"No." He stopped walking with her. "Now you can."

She opened her eyes slowly and looked around her. A warm sense of home filled her heart as she took it all in. He had set up her library, identical to the one in Baltimore with a few slight changes. She had missed it so much.

"All of your records are here." he said as she looked.

She turned to him. "I can't believe you."

"You don't like it?"

"I _love _it." she said, placing a light kiss on his lips.

"I'm glad. Now, about the newspapers."

"Eugh, can we not talk about them?" she said, taking a seat in the armchair.

"We _have _to, I'm afraid. Now that they know you're gone it will only be a couple of days before they accuse me. So, we need to keep our heads down. Especially if anyone at the hotel recognises us from the photos that they'll print, that would be most unfortunate."

"But we kept our heads down and avoided staff… so?"

"Yes, but you can never be too careful, my dear." he said, hand on her shoulder.

The grey night air surrounded the large house in central London, glowing blue against the white and rustling the leaves on the trees surrounding it. The only sound came from the leaves and the whistle of the wind as the streets were vacant and silent, not a soul braving the sharp breeze and the dark sky. In the living room of the handsome house, the furniture had a gold glow from the dancing fire, crackling and moving under the marble frame.

"Hey Doc?" Clarice asked, facing the fire with her head resting on his lap.

"Hm?"

"You know your little sister?"

Hannibal's breathing seemed to quiver for a moment and Clarice feared that she had ventured too deep. He gathered himself and answered her. "Yes."

"What was her name?"

"Mischa."

"Mischa?"

"Yes" he said in a hum.

"It's a nice name."

"_She_ was nice."

"Tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything, what she looked like, what she liked, what she didn't."

"Well, she was four years younger than me. I remember that she was always little for her age, and she had short blonde hair, blue eyes, like mine..."

He spoke as he stared into the fire and Clarice listened carefully, she didn't dare to talk in case she lost him. He didn't like talking about his childhood, she knew, not even to her. She could feel the force of his memories run through him, his voice was reduced to a whisper in some places, and she placed a hand on his and rubbed gently.

"My mother once told me that when she was born I did not like her because I wanted a brother, _not _a sister. She said that I wouldn't even look at her. But that soon changed…"

He ran his fingers over Clarice's cheekbone, lightly brushing her eyelashes. Clarice found it difficult to imagine Hannibal as a child and felt pain when she imagined him suffering.

"She was everything to me."

Clarice sat up and looked into his eyes. The light from the fire danced upon them and brought out the tiny maroon sparks which flew into Clarice's sea blue and cooled there. "I'm sorry that you lost her." she whispered, her voice almost fading into the crackle of the fire.

"Thank you."

There was a perfect little silence where Clarice sat and allowed herself to become vulnerable to him, she allowed him to watch her and observe her reaction. She did that for him. She knew that Hannibal would never like to feel vulnerable, so she took it herself and sat silently.

"Now," he said quickly. "Tell me about _your_ siblings."

"I have one sister and two brothers." she said, sitting back in the sofa next to him.

"Why don't you speak to them?"

"When my father died, we all split up and just didn't speak."

"Not _just_, Clarice. Why didn't you try to contact them?"

"I didn't want to. It wouldn't be right, being with them and _not_ my father."

"Do you miss them?"

"Sometimes, but I don't need them, I never did."

"Have you always been this independent?"

"For as long as I can remember." she said sitting up and placing her hands over his. "Now, Hannibal Lecter, if you are finished grilling me, would you like to escort me to the bedroom?"

"I would love to." he said, taking her hands in his and leading her there.


	14. Chapter 14: Tragedy

Hannibal handed Clarice the newspaper as he tucked his change away in his wallet. They had decided to spend the day outside, as they had been in London for a few weeks and had not really explored it. It was the end of August, the air was warm and bright and London was buzzing with tourists, so there were plenty of crowds to get lost in, convenient for this handsome couple.

"Oh god," she whispered, eyes scanning the headline again and again.

He stood beside her and peered down at the black print, though he didn't seem at all fazed by it.

'HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL SNATCHES HIS BRIDE'.

"Aren't you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"We knew that they were going to come to this conclusion." he said, walking to her and holding her arm. "Ignore it."

They walked away from the newsstand and into the busy streets of London. "Where are we going?"

"Well, I thought that we could start with the London Eye. I know that you admire it so it's only right to take you up there."

"Oooo, but the height!"

"It's perfectly safe." he said, tapping her hand. An amused smile escaped the side of his mouth.

Clarice held Hannibal's arm tight as they walked past the huge line of people waiting to ride the London Eye, they all eyed the couple enviously as they waltzed straight to the front. Hannibal was not bothered by the hundreds of eyes watching them, he kept his stare in front of him and walked confidently and swiftly.

"Good afternoon." he said to the gentleman standing at the front of the line. He handed him the tickets.

"Right this way, sir." the man said as he gestured to the space in front of the family who thought that they were next.

"Hey! How come he gets to push in!" A young boy shouted, chocolate smeared around his mouth.

The attendant looked at the boy with annoyed eyes but kept a calm tone. "Because he has the deluxe package, and you do not."

Hannibal turned to the family. "I'm deeply sorry."

"Not to worry." the woman said with a smile, trying to hush her son.

Another attendant rushed into the cart before Hannibal and Clarice, placing a champagne bucket on the bench. He turned to them when they stepped in.

"Will you require my services this afternoon?"

"No, thank you." Hannibal said.

The man stepped out and they checked that the cart was securely closed. Hannibal poured the champagne into two glistening glasses, handing Clarice one as she stood at the edge, looking out though they had not moved yet.

"I'm excited." Clarice said, bouncing on her tip toes, her champagne almost escaping.

"I can tell."

"How long does it take to get to the top?"

"Around fifteen minutes. I'll bring you up here at night some time**,** it's very beautiful."

The cart started to move ever so slowly, Clarice stayed by the edge and looked out as they rose higher and higher into the air and Hannibal watched her.

"Thanks for bringing me." she said with a smile.

"You're welcome, Clarice."

She stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead warm against his chin.

"Love you."

"I love you too." he said.

For the journey up into the air, Clarice sat in front of Hannibal on the bench, her head rolled back and resting on his shoulder. When she was not scanning the view, her eyes were closed. Hannibal's arms were snug around Clarice and his head was buried in her hair, he looked up at the view only a few times from beneath his brow.

"Hey." she hummed.

"Hm?" he said into her hair.

"Did you know that we'd end up like this?"

"No. I knew that I loved you but I didn't think that you would ever love me."

"When did you first start to love me?"

"It was around your third or fourth visit to the asylum."

"Why, what was it about me then?"

"Everything. Absolutely everything about you."

Clarice smiled and Hannibal whispered to her. "Your ambition, your confidence, how stubborn you were… everything"

She turned a little and reached up to kiss his face. "We're lucky."

"Yes…" he whispered, squeezing her a little tighter.

..

Hannibal lay holding Clarice as she faced away from him, running his fingers over the curve of her hip. He was listening to the regular rhythm of her soft breathing when he felt something unusual. He frowned and sat up, lifting the thin white sheet from Clarice's naked form.

"Clarice," he said sternly as he shook her. "Clarice.".

She stirred and turned over. "Wh… What?" she asked, eyes squinting and voice a little shaken.

"You're bleeding." he said.

She turned and looked at the red sheets beneath her. "Oh my god…" She felt herself sink and gripped at her stomach. "It hurts. Hannibal, it hurts!" she groaned painfully and made Hannibal quiver, something which no one else could do.

"Come on." he said, pulling her over the blood and to the edge of the bed. He took his own shirt and pyjama bottoms and carefully dressed Clarice as she howled and turned in pain on the bed.

"Hannibal…"

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No."

"Yes, we have to go. I'll be with you the whole time."

"What… what do you think it is" she said, sitting up, hands on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know. But you're going to be fine." he said, grabbing his keys.

"How… Doctor…" were the last word that Clarice was able to murmur before she slipped into a deep sleep with one last stab of pain.

Clarice struggled to lift her heavy eyelids but felt comfort when she made out the shape of Hannibal standing next to her, he was wearing a wig. The room was light and smelt of medicine. He looked down at her eyes and studied her focus.

"Dr Lecter… Hannibal?" she coughed.

"Yes, Clarice. I am here."

"What happened… where is it…"

"We're at the hospital."

She tried to sit up but fell back into her pillow and sighed. "Doesn't hurt anymore… just tired."

"Okay."

"What happened to me?"

He knelt down next to the bed and wiped hair from her forehead, she looked into his eyes and realised that something was wrong. What wasn't he telling her?

"Hannibal, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing, you're fine."

"Then what _happened_ to me?"

"The Doctor is going to be in here to talk to us any min-"

"I don't want to hear it from some doctor, I want to hear it from _you._" Salty water covered the sea blue of her eyes and a hot tear warmed her cheek but her glare was angry and stern at his.

He looked up into her eyes and squeezed her hand before speaking with a scratchy voice. "We lost a baby."


	15. Chapter 15: Fly Away Starling

"Clarice?" he asked, peeping into the dark room at the silhouette facing away from him. She didn't stir. "Clarice?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Mm."

"All right. Call me if you want anything."

He left the room and went back to the kitchen where he threw away dinner. He knew that Clarice would get up eventually, she just needed time. She had been in the room for two days, only leaving to go to the bathroom, no food and no water, no company. Time was the only cure. Calming Clarice during the night had become routine to the Doctor. He would find himself staying awake all night watching her sleeping body and waiting for her to start screaming and thrashing about so he could hold and hush her. He was worried about his dear Clarice, but he would get her through this.

It was evening when she approached him in the living room, her face was a little pale and her eyes empty. Her clothing hung a little loose and dark circles had formed around her eyes.

"Hi." he said softly.

"Hey." she said, her voice was weak.

She collapsed next to him and he took her in his arms. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay."

"Want something to eat?"

"No, thanks."

"All right. I think that it would do you some good to get some fresh air so we're going out tonight."

"Where?"

"Clarice, if I tell you I am afraid that I will have to kill you."

Clarice laughed and Hannibal smiled, he had missed the way that she sounded when she was happy and he was glad that he had brought it back, even if it was just for a second.

Clarice dressed casually with lots of layers on the Doctor's instructions and they left their home. The sky had begun to colour a dark blue and the moon was starting to make an appearance from behind the grey clouds, a few stars started to sparkle. They walked through the empty streets of London together, Clarice was glad that there weren't many people around and she squeezed Hannibal's hand tight. Their footsteps were the only ones tapping against the cold stone slabs and they echoed against the buildings. The breeze blew sharp against their faces.

"Will you please tell me where we're going?"

"We're here now." he said as they stopped still in front of the London eye, it was dark and tranquil.

"But, it's closed."

Hannibal said nothing but instead squeezed Clarice's hand and continued to walk with her. They made their way up to it; there were no crowds or lines this time, only a few attendants waiting. They opened the cart door for the couple and Clarice wondered why they were the only ones there.

"Clarice, I just need to speak to them for a minute, wait for me in the cart." Hannibal said as he tapped her hand.

She stepped into the cart and sat down on the bench waiting for Hannibal, it was chilly and she wrapped her coat tighter over her, one attendant closed the door and walked over to Hannibal who stood with the other attendants. There was some clinking and light buzzing as the cart started to move.

Clarice stood quickly and walked over to the window of the cart to look at Hannibal who was looking back at her from the outside. She banged the glass once and spoke loudly though it was no use, the glass was way too thick for him to hear anything.

"What's happening? Hannibal?" she asked, banging the glass again. He just stood and smiled back at her, he raised his eyebrows and gestured with his hands to tell her to calm down. He did not engage with the attendants much whist Clarice travelled up, he just waited for her to reach the top, occasionally catching a glimpse of her looking down and being filled with that familiar warmth.

The cart was moving faster than it had when they were there a few days ago and it shook a little from the wind. Clarice's stomach started to swirl when she looked around her and realised that she was alone. Hannibal was all the way down on the ground and she was alone up in the air. She watched his face grow distant as she rose higher and higher.

"What is he playing at?" she whispered to herself.

The view made her uneasy so she sat looking away from it and hugged herself for warmth, wondering why he had sent her up alone. When the cart came to a halt at the top of the wheel she stood and looked out, she couldn't see Hannibal or anything else. She walked to the centre of the cart when she noticed the slip of paper on the bench and held it up at the window to see what it read.

'Look down.' was written in elegant handwriting which she recognised as Hannibal's. She walked to the edge and looked out.

Clarice felt a sudden hot beat surge through her and sighed, covering her mouth with her hands as her eyes travelled over the bright blue lights stretched over the river Thames. Apart from the dim light from the surrounding hotels and the glow of the houses of parliament, they were the only striking dots of light standing against the dark shades of blue. Quiet sounds of joy escaped her mouth and her eyes stayed wide open as she read it again and again, just making sure that she wasn't mistaken. The cart began to move again and Clarice stood at the door waiting to reach the ground, the sickly feeling of being alone had been replaced by the buzz of her excitement. When the attendant opened her door she ran out to Hannibal who was waiting for her, the attendants weren't near him. He opened his arms to her.

"Yes, I will!" she shouted as her feet moved fast against the stone. "Yes, I will marry you!"

He laughed and lifted her up when she reached him, she wrapped her legs around him and squeezed him tight. "I will." she said again and again.

He set her down and kissed her before taking her hand. A polite nod to the attendants and the couple walked away. They walked alongside the River Thames, hand in hand and back to normal. Hannibal recognised the familiar flush of pink in Clarice's cheeks and her eyes were a little brighter than a few days ago. He was glad to have her back.

"I almost forgot." Hannibal said, reaching in his coat pocket.

"What?" she asked him, watching his hand move around in his coat. He pulled out a tiny black case and Clarice felt another deep beat. He opened it slowly and revealed the engagement ring. Clarice couldn't help but open her mouth and sighed with joy; she bit her lip and stared down at it.

"Oh my god." she whispered. It was very beautiful, yellow gold with a round stone, a diamond. The light from the street lamps shone on it and sent sparkles directly into Clarice's eyes, the little glints danced with the slight shakes of Hannibal's hands as he stood watching her face. He had dreamed of making her feel loved.

He took the small sized ring and then Clarice's left hand. It slid on perfectly. Clarice stretched out her fingers and tilted it around, creating more little shines. She hadn't took her eyes off it yet. Looking up into Hannibal's eyes, she smiled whilst keeping her grip against her bottom lip, a little water pooled beneath the sea blue of her eyes.

He cupped her face and kissed her, bringing her body closer to his and holding her tight. The light from the streetlamp above shone down on them, almost as if it were staged to mark the moment. Though they weren't married yet, from that moment on Clarice wasn't a Starling anymore. Hannibal knew that she was his, he had known for a while but now it was set in stone. She was his and he was hers. He had never allowed himself to belong to anyone, not since he was a child. But with Clarice it was different. He wanted to belong.


	16. Chapter 16: As One

In the morning, Clarice awoke to the fresh air running over her bare skin and she brought the covers back up to her neck. Hannibal closed the window and silently returned to the bed where he lay on his side and watched Clarice.

"Stop watching me sleep." she said playfully without opening her eyes.

"You are not sleeping."

"Not any more." she said, opening her eyes and smiling at him. He took her in his arms and ran his finer in spiral motions on her shoulder, she was warm against him.

"We can look for your dress today."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What's my price range?"

"You don't have one."

"I _have_ to have a limit."

"Nope." he said simply and Clarice laughed a little.

After their lunch, Hannibal and Clarice left the little restaurant and walked around London for a while. They walked past Buckingham Palace, home to the Queen, and Hannibal enlightened Clarice with some facts about her and her family. Clarice often let Hannibal teach her things, even if she wasn't really interested in them, she always listened.

It was November and over the past few months, their relationship had grown much stronger. After the loss of their unborn child and then Hannibal's proposal they knew that they could and would get through anything and everything that the world could throw at them.

The newspapers had confirmed that Clarice had 'ran away' with Hannibal months ago and the media focus had weakened since, they almost always wore some form of light disguise when they went out in public and they weren't so well known in England anyway, so they didn't have to be too careful.

Clarice's arm was wrapped tightly around Hannibal and their coats were buttoned all the way to the top, winter was near and the air was bitter, but London was pretty at this time of year and they enjoyed being outside. They visited a few of many shops in London which sold wedding dresses, Hannibal waiting for Clarice as she tried on as many as possible, only to come out disappointed.

"Anything?"

"No."

He took her arm. "We'll find one, there's no rush."

Walking up the stone steps to their front door, Hannibal searched for his keys and Clarice observed the steam that formed in the air when she breathed out. The couple took their time in getting ready for the Royal Opera House, Clarice had a new dress and Hannibal a new suit. Tonight they would see Swan Lake, Clarice's choice.

When Clarice made her way down the stairs, Hannibal waited at the bottom as he always did and felt the buzz of excitement rise from the pit of his stomach, when she emerged he would always be filled with warmth that no one else could provide.

She held the railing and peeped around the corner to make sure that he was there before going down to him, he was there and dressed smartly in white tie. He smiled and watched her as she took one delicate step down after another, being careful not to trip in her new heels. Her dress was an asymmetric midnight gown by Giorgio Armani, her heels were visible just a little and her hair was held neatly in place in a high bun on her head. Her earrings shook as she looked down at her dress, being careful where she stepped and she had a tiny black clutch bag in hand.

He took her hand and kissed it lightly before placing his hand on the small of her walking towards the door.

Driving into Covent Gardens, Clarice and Hannibal listened to Clarice's choice of music and talked over it. They found that music aided their conversations.

"I'd like it to be at night. With the lights and everything."

"It would make for a very beautiful wedding, providing the weather does not interrupt."

"Yeah. What about the witnesses?"

"We'll hire them, they just stay for the ceremony and then we'll be alone." he said, turning his head to her and smiling.

They stopped in front of the opera house, it was a huge white building with tall pillars and expensive glass windows which gleamed just the right amount. Crowds of people gathered to go inside and be seated, Hannibal handed the valet the keys and took Clarice's waist and they walked inside together where the atmosphere was formal yet exciting.

They were seated in their own box and had a magnificent view of the ballet. Clarice watched the dancers jump around the stage, holding hands and moving in rows. She found the quick movements of their feet unusually amusing and laughed silently at first, Hannibal smiled at her and placed a hand over hers. He had seen Swan Lake many times before but it was his fiancé's first time.

Though it was a little amusing, she appreciated and admired the swans gliding around in front of her. It was as if it were effortless, their feet seemed to float and their movements were so synchronised it was almost unnatural, their arms flowed outwards in every stretch like they were silk fabrics being moved by a breeze.

Hannibal looked at Clarice leaning forward in her seat, her mouth open carelessly and eyes moving from the dancers' feet to their arms to their face and back to their feet again. He leaned in towards her and whispered into her ear.

"I can't wait for this to finish."

"Don't you like it?" she asked.

"I'm enjoying the performance thoroughly, Clarice, but I want to take you home so…"

Though there was no one near to hear them, Hannibal leaned in and whispered the rest to her, his hand on her back and breath raising goose bumps on her neck. She smiled at him with wide eyes, a little shocked yet pleased at his behaviour.

At home, Clarice lay on Hannibal's bare chest and looked up at him with wondering eyes.

"You seem dubious." he said without looking down at her.

"I am."

"About what?"

"When you were on trial, you didn't pleas insanity did you?"

"No, the courts found me insane. I denied it."

"But why? You could have got the death sentence and then you wouldn't be here with me."

"At the time I didn't know you existed, I didn't ever think that I would find love."

"But you did."

"Yes, I did." he said, stroking her hair.

"I hated it, you know."

"Hated what, dear?"

"Seeing you behind the glass."

"Why?"

"It was like you were some sort of animal that they could just come and look at and observe, you weren't an animal." she said, her voice shaking a bit. "You deserved better, I always felt guilty after I saw you."

"When you came to visit me it didn't matter that there was glass separating us. I didn't need freedom when you were there, all I ever needed was to see you. After that, I was free in my mind, Clarice. And it was the greatest gift that anyone could have ever given me."

Clarice shuffled up to his face and looked down into his maroon eyes, the bright red spots calm. She kissed him and then held him against her chest, his arms wrapped tight around her, eyes closed and listening to her warm heartbeat.


	17. Chapter 17: Yes, I do

After weeks and weeks of planning, it was time for Clarice to become Clarice Lecter. They had decided for a simple wedding out on the boat at night, as Clarice has loved the view so much. They would spend the night at home and then set out on their honeymoon to Belgium in the morning, they weren't religious so had decided to spend Christmas away.

It was December and Hannibal waited next to the minister for Clarice to join him, their hired witnesses, a couple of students, were seated behind them. The witnesses and the minister were unaware of the true identities of the couple, they were Annabelle Sterling and Clarence Lester, about to become a married couple.

The little boat was decorated with strings of white flowers with little lights in them, some floating around on the river water and making the little boat glow, setting it apart from the rest of the world for a little while. The weather was dry and chilly but the city of London was as alive as ever, the blue glints of the London eye moving slowly and the hotel windows glowing. The boat floated away from the river bank but was still very visible, shining against the dark of the night and the river, and some by passers stopped to take photos of the from a distance and some just admired it's beauty.

Clarice appeared and Hannibal felt his heart jump up into his throat, he was filled with that familiar warmth which he would always feel when she would emerge all dressed up and glowing. The minister and the two witnesses were silenced and their mouths open. Her dress was beautiful, simple but effective. It was long and came in a little at the waits with a thin white bow, the material beneath the outer layer was cream and the net that flowed over it was white lace, it had a little bit of a train, but not too much. She wore her hair curly and had a white headband buried in it, decorated with white flowers. One of Clarice's favourite songs was playing softly in the background, the lyrics describing her love for him perfectly…

_I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines, until the poets run out of rhyme, in other words, until the end of time…_

She joined him and he took her hands in his, the minister started to speak.

"We have gathered today to celebrate the blending together of two lives. As Clarence and Annabelle come before us here today as two, they will leave this place as one, united in marriage. Your love for one another and your willingness to accept each other's strength and frailties with understanding and consideration will form the foundation for a life together that will last."

Hannibal smiled at his Clarice and squeezed her hands a little tighter, she never took her eyes off his smiling face.

"You will find a wealth of love and peace not otherwise attainable. But with this joy comes a profound responsibility to protect the bond you share. For it is only with continual care that your love is truly secure in the face of life's inevitable tests." The minister then silenced himself and nodded to Hannibal.

"I Clarence Lester take you Annabelle Sterling to be my wife. I promise to live in truth with you,  
and I give you my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace, pledging you my love and devotion as I join my life to yours." Hannibal said softly and clearly, the metallic rasp of his voice sounded charming.

Clarice wore a wide smile across her face and a layer of salty water hovered over the pale blue of her eyes, she gathered herself when the minister nodded to her. "I Annabelle Sterling take you Clarence Lester to be my husband. I promise to live in truth with you, and I give you my hand and my heart as a sanctuary of warmth and peace, pledging you my love and devotion as I join my life to yours."

The minister took a moment and went on. "Let these rings be a sign that love has a past, a present and a future, and that, despite its occasional sorrows, love is a circle of joyous wonder, and delight. Clarence, take Annabelle's ring and place it on her finger and repeat after me."

Hannibal listened to the minister's words only once before repeating them to Clarice as he placed her diamond ring onto her finger. "Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is never-ending.  
With this ring, I take you to be my partner for life."

A single tear rolled down Clarice's pink cheek as she repeated the words that Hannibal had just vowed to her, placing the ring on his finger. "Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is never-ending. With this ring, I take you to be my partner for life."

The minister smiled and continued. "In as much as you have sealed your vows in the presence of those gathered here by the giving of these rings and have consented together to live in marriage, it gives me much pleasure to pronounce that you are now Husband and Wife."

Clarice smiled and Hannibal leaned in and kissed her for the first time as his wife.

Once alone on the boat, the two had their first dance as husband and wife. Hannibal held onto Clarice as his and she enjoyed belonging to him.

"How does it feel to be Mrs Dr. Hannibal Lecter?"

"It feels… meant to be." she whispered.

There, that night, dancing on that little boat, Clarice and Hannibal forgot about their pasts and all of the horrors which existed there and instead focused on their futures together. Now it was them against the world. They were a couple in hiding and hated by many but it didn't matter because to each one of them, the other was the only thing worth having. They had agreed to love and protect one another forever and that is what they would do. But like with all good things, eventually something or someone would tear them apart, but the question was, was it closer than they thought?


	18. Chapter 18: Trouble in Love?

"I can't wait to get back to London." Clarice said, sitting next to her husband on the sofa which lay on the terrace of their of their five-star hotel, overlooking a river. They were in Belgium and it was the last night of their honeymoon. They had been there for two weeks and had spent most nights dancing out on the terrace but they did find the time to see a few shows. They had decided to spend the last night in.

"I was under the impression that you liked it here." he said.

"I do, I love it here. But I just feel out of place, like civilisation exists only in London."

"Only one more night." he said, squeezing her hand.

"One more night. Hmmm… I wonder what we could do on our last night in Belgium" she said, climbing onto his lap. "Hmm, let me think."

"I can think of something." he said, leaning into her neck.

…

The couple returned from their honeymoon in Belgium early January. They arrived at their home in the evening, the streets of London were chilly and it was already dark but they were glad to return to their large, handsome house.

Clarice hurried up the stairs, eager to get into her pyjamas and Hannibal opened a bottle of wine in the living room, waiting for his beloved to return, when he noticed something odd. He eyed the coffee table, not in its usual position, only slightly off but he noticed that it was not like it was before they left. He was very specific about detail and noticed every little thing about objects close to his heart, his home being one of them. He set his wine glass down and walked towards the mahogany staircase.

He listened out for movement, but here was nothing. Creeping silently up the stairs, he listened vigilantly for any indication of Clarice, a footstep or a creek, but there was no noise at all, it was eerie and cold, not warm and homely like it should have been. With his wonder came hunger, a hunger for something which he hadn't tasted in a long time. He speculated at whether he would get a chance to taste it tonight and whether he would have to.

Hannibal's senses thrived, whenever there was a chance of danger, he would switch into the true predator which hid inside of him, the one that he was able to hold back most of the time. But not now. Not when there was a chance of something hurting Clarice. No way. He welcomed his marauder side, he basked in it.

He took slow footsteps over the carpet which lay on the laminated floorboards, towards the bedroom which he shared with Clarice, far down the little corridor. The door was closed, another small detail which told Hannibal that all was not right. Clarice was changing her clothes in there, she would definitely not close the door on him, so why was it closed? He would soon find out.

He pushed the door and it swung easily, though the light that was released into the room only sent shock and despair through his heart in an excruciating bolt. He threw himself to the floor where the still body of his beloved lay before him and shook her, then holding her close to him and opening her eyes, listening and feeling for a pulse, but he couldn't feel anything, she was cold and still.

"So you're this _vampire _that I've been hearing so much about." a strong foreign accent spoke behind Hannibal, before the tall man pulled a crowbar down on Hannibal's head, sending his motionless body falling on top of Clarice's with a thud and his eyes closing to the auburn glow of her hair.

* * *

A/N: My first cliff-hanger, let me know what you think! :)


	19. Chapter 19: A Challenge

"…What…Han…" She opened her eyes with effort and a drowsy pain hung over her, like a blanket shadowing her sanity. She fought the pain and moved as much as she could, shuffling against the stone floor and turning to see that her left arm was handcuffed to a railing which ran along the floor. There was no noise except for a strange nauseating buzz which hung in the air and Clarice's desperate breathing, pining for the strength to break free. Her heart jumped when she realised that whoever took her must have got Hannibal too and for a second she felt like dying.

She turned back and shuffled the opposite way, her arm stretched way back behind her. Hannibal stood like he did at Mason Verger's mansion, upright with his arms stretched out and tied to a cross behind him, as were his feet, like Jesus on the cross, ready to be sacrificed. He wore the same mask that he had on that night and his head had been cut open but it had stopped bleeding, Clarice could tell that he was bruised beneath his mask.

Clarice saw two of Hannibal and her vision swayed, drowning her in a somnolent haze. She couldn't see if Hannibal was looking at her but she assumed that he was and she rolled onto her side to face him properly, with her arm stretched behind her, still attached to the railing, and her cheek on the cold floor. She couldn't see anyone else in the room and thanked God.

"Clarice," he said loudly but calmly and so comforting that it would hush the angels to sleep. "Look at me."

"What's happening?"

"There were three men in our house, they struck you unconscious and then me and brought us here. I was unconscious for the journey, as were you, but by the aroma I can assume that we are in the woods somewhere."

"Who are they?"

"By their accents, I am guessing that they are somehow related to the men who Mason Verger assigned to capture me."

"How… how did they find us?" she asked, trying to keep her eyes open, feeling the greatest urge to break through the metal keeping her there and cling onto him for dear life.

"I'm not sure, yet."

"Hannibal" she muttered, adjusting her position. "You need to know something"

"Go on, Clarice"

She breathed and almost spoke in a cry. "I'm pregnant again."

"I know." he whispered with a little nod.

"What if they hurt the baby? What if we lose it again?" A tear rolled down Clarice's cheek onto the floor, providing her with the first bit of warmth that she had felt in hours.

"I won't let that happen."

"How can you stop them?"

"Just stay calm. Don't tell them about the pregnancy. Leave the rest up to me. Hush now, Clarice, I hear them."

The murmurs of voices and deep laughter were growing closer and clearer to them, shadows' movement visible from the gap under the wooden door and footsteps growing like the fear that consumed Clarice's confused mind, like a drum roll of their doom.

"Turn over and close your eyes." Hannibal whispered and Clarice did as he said before the door was pushed open with a creek.

Clarice kept her eyes closed, hoping that her cries wouldn't shake her body and praying that they wouldn't hurt Hannibal, wishing so desperately that she feared it would kill her. She listened to them place something on the cheap wooden table next to the door and footsteps stop behind her head and she knew that one of them was looking down on her, she could feel his slimy gaze lingering over her, the perverted privilege of a killer. She remained as still as a corpse.

"Looks like your girlfriend might sleep forever." one of them said to Hannibal, his golden skin sweaty and black hair greasy, Hannibal scanned every inch of him within four seconds and stored it in his memory.

"You're not so tough now, are you, Mr Vampire?" The other said, approaching Hannibal's face, but to no reaction.

"I bet you're wondering how we found you."

"Not really but you're going to tell me anyway." Hannibal spoke, surprising the two men. Clarice felt warmth at the sound of his voice and clung onto it.

"You really thought that you and your pretty little whore could murder my family and get away with it? You didn't realise who you were messing with, did you? Carlo was my cousin." The taller one spoke, his hair was slicked back with grease and it shined from the bright lights shining down on them. He stood close to Hannibal and breathed heavily, his breath stinking heavily of cigarettes and cheap whiskey, lingering in the space between them in a hot, musty cloud.

Hannibal could tell that he was the leader of the pack, well, he _thought_ he was. Hannibal would prove otherwise very, very soon.

"We've been tracing you for months, finally tracked you down when you bought yourself a lovely big house in central London." the other added.

"We even got some entertainment when you and your slut decided to fuck with the curtains open, do you remember that? We'll remember it forever." the taller said with an oily laugh, a little saliva escaping his mouth and flying onto Hannibal's mask.

Hannibal's anger surged with the ferocity of a thousand suns but he didn't show it, keeping a plain express beneath his mask, so plain and blank that it was more dangerous than any weapon or firearm that they could threaten him with. Clarice cringed at the vulgarity that she witnessed and felt guilty that they were speaking to Hannibal and not her.

He stepped back from Hannibal and turned towards Clarice, approaching her and lowering himself to the floor, kneeling next to her.

"Me and the little lady might have our own show later on." he said, running his finger up Clarice's leg and over the curve of her hip before turning to Hannibal. "You can watch if you like."

The other laughed and watched for Hannibal's reaction, though he wasn't granted one. Clarice struggled to keep quiet and clenched her teeth together, praying for the patience to stop herself from smashing his face in.

"I strongly advise you against that, gentlemen." Hannibal spoke calmly.

He rose and walked away from Clarice, impatience and anger seemed to throb against his temples, a thick vein prominent as he approached Hannibal again.

"If I want her, I'll have her." he said, a red tongue moving over his teeth and mocking Hannibal.

"You have an hour, then you die. Your bitch too." The other said, before they both left and locked the door. Clarice turned as soon as the door closed and looked to Hannibal.

"Clarice," he started. "I need you to be strong now."

She nodded and sat up as much as she could, her arm aching. "Tell me what to do."

"See that wallet over there on that table?"

She looked across, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles first, and saw the leather wallet that they had neglected to pick up on their way out. "Yeah."

"Try and reach out for it."

She pulled he handcuffs along the railing, as far as it would go towards the door before it stopped at a bolt on the metal, one which she could not move. She reached out with her left arm, trying desperately to reach it and straining her trapped arm.

"I can't reach."

"I need you to try harder." he said, watching her trapped wrist with caution.

"I… can't…" she said, reaching with a painful face, desperately pulling on the handcuffs which slid back and forth on the railing before they hit the bolt again and stopped, hurting more every time. She sat back and pulled herself forwards using her legs, as far as she could go, then turned to her side a little and reached out more, desperately and straining, the metal of the handcuffs cutting a deep slit across the side of her wrist.

"Almost got it," she strained, lunging forward once more and grabbing the wallet, pulling it onto the floor, then picking it up. "Got it!"

"There should be a small pocket knife in there, Clarice."

She fumbled with it with both hands, facing he wall a little to get use of both of them, ignoring the blood that started to drip from her wrist.

"Got it." she said, holding the tiny knife.

"I know that it hurts, but I need you to reach towards me. Try and cut the rope on my ankles."

She reached out again, crying from the pain of the metal digging into her cut, covering the silver with a red shine and setting Hannibal's senses haywire. She swiped the knife down once, missing the rope by a centimetre. She swiped again, dizzy from the pain and caught Hannibal's bare foot, but he didn't move.

"Sorry." she sighed desperately.

"It's okay, just try again."

She swiped once more, pushing herself forward a little and catching the rope, then rocking back and forwards again and again, cutting a little bit of the string each time. She sighed and cried out in pain until the rope broke, when she fell backwards and took the pressure off the cut.

Hannibal shook the loosened rope from his feet and stepped down from the block where he was standing, his arms still attached to the cross. He applied all of his force and pushed upwards, lifting the cross and walking over towards Clarice. He carefully lowered himself down next to her and lay over the cross.

"Cut the rope." he said and she sat up with tears of pain stinging her eyes.

She cut the rope on his wrist easily and then he took the knife and cut the other himself, shaking the rope off and pushing the wooden cross back over to where it was, standing it up again. Returning to Clarice, he rubbed the red marks that circled his wrists.

"Let me see." he said, shuffling up to the railing and leaning into her. "It's not that bad, we'll get it cleared up soon." Hannibal kissed Clarice's lips softly and felt her tears against his skin, he held her for a moment, so tight, as if she was the source of his life, and she didn't want to move from his arms.

When she heard the rising footsteps and murmur of voices, Clarice closed her eyes again as she was told and lay very still on the stone floor, facing the wall like before. The tall greasy one entered the room, followed by the smaller one, only to stop when they saw the cross which stood alone in the centre of the dull room.

"What the fuck?!" The one yelled before a hard fist came crashing down on his head, sending him shaking and to the floor, body limp and twitching.

"Arrigo!" The other shouted and then turned to the red-eyed monster that had been hiding behind the door, before his own pocket knife came gliding across his face, shadowing his vision in a red blur and sending him crashing against the wall, his hands scurrying over his face and glowing red.

Hannibal lunged for the taller one, who was rising from the floor, and plunged the little knife into his chest, aiming carefully and hitting the heart, a sea of bright red blood flowing from him and draining him of life. In his eyes hung the wild, animalistic hunger which Clarice had seen only once before when she confronted him at the lake house and he pushed her up against the fridge, but it was different now, even more dangerous. But she wasn't afraid. She was as far away as she could be, avoiding the pool of blood approaching her, not caring about her own blood spilling form her wrist and covering her arm, becoming sticky and clumped.

The same procedure with the second and the job was almost done. He advanced towards the corpse of the first and searched through his jacket, pulling out a tiny silver key. Hannibal unlocked Clarice's handcuffs and held her tight against his chest for only a few seconds before examining her wrist, ripping a section from the bottom of his shirt and wrapping it around it. He took her other wrist and pulled her up, keeping her behind him as he walked.

"Let's go!" she said in an enthusiastic whisper.

"Wait, there were three."

They were confronted by the third when they turned the last corner before the door. He was the tallest and looked very strong, almost twice the size of the other two. Clarice was pushed aside by Hannibal when the heavy-footed man ran towards them, knocking Hannibal backwards and then laying a hundred punches into his face, one after the other, with the ferocity and speed of a blazing fire. Clarice acted on impulse, despite being told to stay away, and lunged for the giant, pulling on his long black hair and biting his shoulder, drawing blood and biting deeper, doing anything to get him off Hannibal, he growled and pushed Clarice backwards, who hit the floor with an alarming bang and a shrieking cry but by then Hannibal was back on his feet, thick blood seeping from his gums and nose and down his face and neck, soaking his shirt, and it took one deep, deep lunge of the knife into the heart and the giant was on the floor, shivering and shaking, a pool of blood flowing out of him, and then he was still, eyes open and staring into nothing.

Hannibal took a bunch of keys from the giant's coat pocket and approached Clarice, scooped her shivering body up into his arms and carried her out of the square building and into the car that was waiting outside. He sat in the driver's seat next to her and wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt before turning to her.

"How's your wrist?"

"It's okay, just sore now."

Hannibal held her face and pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms securely around her and stroking her hair as she rested there. The stress of what had just happened sunk in and she fell into a state of shock mixed with fear, shaking her whole body. He held her tight, trying to silence the shakes.

"Let's go home." he whispered.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter will be the last of this fic as I don't know where to take it from here and have decided to focus more on my new fic, Quid Pro Quo. Drop me a review and let me know what you think of this chapter and what you might like to see in the last and I will see if I can make it happen, thanks. :)


	20. Chapter 20: That's My Girl

Clarice stood in front of the grand mirror in the foyer of her home in London, the home that she shared with her husband of seven years. Her hair was wrapped up into a bun and was held tight on her head, accompanied by a beautiful emerald green butterfly, one that her beloved had bought her early on in their relationship. The dress that she wore, green and long, was also a gift from when they were just starting out together. She loved the dress, it was her favourite and it showcased her impressive figure. It ran over her curves smoothly and rose over her stomach which inhabited a growing bump. She stood and applied the light pink lipstick carefully, leaning in to the mirror. Her face had not aged much in the past years and her hair was of the same shiny auburn.

Footsteps as Hannibal came down the stairs, dressed in white tie, new and expensive as always. Unlike his wife, age had started to take its toll on him, though he still held the curious grace and mysterious handsome charm that he always had. His face had endured many changes in its life, some planned and some not, but none did ever take his grace. He walked to his wife swiftly and placed a hand on her back.

"Ready to go?" he asked, the metallic rasp of his voice ever-soft.

She turned to him and smiled. "Ready."

The couple sat in their Bentley, newly acquired and beautiful, always attracting attention and admiration, some quiet envy. Clarice held her clutch bag and looked to Hannibal when their music started, a collection which Clarice most enjoyed. It included a few songs which reminded her of when Hannibal saved her from her dead-end life and also their wedding songs. Hannibal took pleasure in watching his wife enjoy the music.

They drove into Covent Gardens and to the Royal Opera house. The air was filled with the laughter of the upper class and an inviting scent hung in it, floating from the hundreds of glasses filled with sparkling champagne which stood on the silver trays held by the statue-like waiters. The carpet shone bright red and the pillars were of a magnificent marble which glistened from the bright lights shining from the chandeliers. With every approaching car, each face would watch with suspense and excitement, as tonight was the London premiere of Swan Lake, a very special version of the ballet, which had brought tourists flocking in from around the globe.

The gentleman stood from the car and opened the door for his beloved, taking her outstretched arm and walking with her to the crowds. Many eyes scanned the couple with whispers of admiration, and camera crews flocked through the crowds and aimed for them, but the couple did not respond, they were very reserved as they walked through the foyer and to their private box seats, keeping their heads down and arms linked.

They sat with their fingers intertwined; a subtle clue confirming that even after years of running and hiding, of fear and suspicion, love can still remain as strong as the moment that one says _I do_.

Clarice tucked a curl of hair behind her ear and felt her earrings sway. "I can't wait to see her."

"Nor can I." Hannibal said, taking her hand and sharing a smile.

The lights went down and immersed the audience in almost complete darkness. The long red curtains came open slowly and the set lit up, glowing in front of the thousands of eyes staring in awe. It was a beautiful setting, with white and pink props arranged to show a glorious lake. A thin and worn tree stood showered in a cloth of white snow, the lake sparkled with blue and pink lights and a thin mist of smoke rose from the ground.

The fetching couple were leaning forward in their seats now, looking down at the set which cast light upon their faces and animated their features. They exchanged a smile before looking down again and watching the tiny dancers emerge. Clarice's eyes raced around and Hannibal smiled at her with a hand on her back, waiting too.

They appeared in three rows, seven to each, from each end of the grand stage. Dressed in little expensive costumes with their hair pinned up in buns, the girls linked arms and swayed gracefully onto the stage, tip-toes balancing their tiny frames and faces fighting to tame huge smiles. It was an honour for them to perform and an honour for the families to watch, as they had been chosen from a group of approximately ten-thousand who had auditioned from throughout the United Kingdom. It was also being broadcasted on six television channels, which cast a problem for the handsome couple in the box seats, though they were very careful.

Clarice squeezed her husband's hand and smiled widely. "There she is!"

Hannibal's smile was subtle but strong as he identified her from the group.

The girl was small for her age but her grace was evident and from the moment that she appeared on the stage she shone like a burning star against a winter's night-sky. She walked in tiny steps on her tip-toes with effort, as did the others, but she did not let a struggle keep her from perfection, her movements were planned and faultless. Her hair was losing its fluffy infant charm and was being replaced with a smooth glow which shone in rich mahogany, sometimes highlighting it auburn in the light, and her eyes shined like rubies against snow. From such a distance, her parents could not make out the red pinpoints that danced in her eyes, though they were always there, and they jumped up and flew to the centre with her nerves and excitement, accompanied by the pink in her cheeks.

At the sight of her, Hannibal's heart moved in his chest and love drowned him, and Clarice's sea-blue eyes started to fill with tears of joy.

"She looks so beautiful." Clarice whispered, taking a sudden breath.

"Yes. She takes after her mother." Hannibal said, turning to her and embracing her in his eyes before they turned back to watch their daughter perform.

The little girl danced and swayed with her flock, never breaking her concentration and putting her utmost effort into each movement, knowing that her parents had come to see her. It came to no surprise that she was playing the part of Odette, the main character, who has to swim on a lake of tears disguised as a swan. Though this production was a junior version of Swan Lake, the tragic storyline had been kept, where Odette will remain a swan forever until a prince promises eternal love to her, only to be betrayed and then commit suicide in the lake. Her prince would then commit suicide and they would be transformed into lovers in the afterlife.

When it came for Odette to commit the tragedy, the young girl with the maroon eyes danced her last dance, smoothly swimming in one slow circle around on the stage, casting hopes and last kisses to the mesmerized audience and her fellow swans, before the lights shone a blood red down on the snow, sending the graceful birds panicking, and the beautiful Odette threw herself into the lake. After one last stretch of her shaking arm, she closed her eyes for the last time. The little swan lay still in the lake, her white tutu spread out around her and the pink sequins sparkling.

All lights dimmed and left everything in darkness for a moment before the lights about the audience came on once more, revealing the hundreds of faces standing and clapping their heavily jewelled hands and whistling proudly for their children.

The couple in the private box stood up straight and clapped with the others, though their pride and joy thrived the strongest. They stood and cheered, keeping their eyes on their daughter, Julia, who stood and bowed, her cheeks bright pink and smile wide. They could not hear her laugh over the crowd. She stood up straight after bowing, in the middle of the line of swans and peered to the boxes on the left. Finally, she spotted the right one and jumped up, waving frantically with the widest smile she ever had.

Clarice lifted her arm and waved it whole, smiling and shouting to her daughter and Hannibal waved too, though not as enthusiastically as his wife and being ever wary of the cameras below.

When the dancers disappeared, the couple followed the crowds into the foyer, Clarice almost pulling Hannibal along. There, they stood and waited, silent and away from the others, and watched out for their swan.

Clarice held her husband's hand and fiddled with his fingers. "She was amazing, don't you think?"

"Yes, I am very proud of her."

"Me too." She said with a smile.

"She takes after you."

"No she doesn't, she's all you."

He nodded and leaned a fraction closer to her ear. "She has your beauty and your attention to detail."

"And she has your mind and your eyes, and what mysterious eyes they are…" She touched his face and he kissed her palm before their attention was redirected.

The door leading from the foyer to the backstage area opened and the director of the production stood up tall and straight. The parents clapped and made noises of admiration for him when he stepped aside and stretched out his arm with a flat palm to introduce his dancers. The lead swan was first. The clapping decreased as the proud parents greeted their children, all of them eyeing Julia in awe as she ran to her parents who stood away from the large group, wide eyed. Her white tutu frolicked as she ran, her little red coat protecting her from the night air and her red shoes lightly thumping against the carpet.

Clarice crouched and opened her arms and her daughter rushed into her, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck and being lifted from the ground.

"Oh, my Julia, I'm so proud of you, you were brilliant sweetheart, just brilliant." She spoke into her daughter's hair, tears forming fast.

Hannibal stood close to them both and looked at his girls with love almost drowning him. He stroked his daughter's face as she rested on her mother's shoulder and she opened her arms. Hannibal scooped her from his wife's arms and held her so tight, his wife being the only person that he had ever embraced with such affection. He spoke into her mahogany hair like his wife had.

"You were amazing out there, I am so proud of you, _so_ proud of you."

"You liked it, Daddy?" said Julia, leaning back in her father's arms and touching his nose.

"I _loved_ it."

"And you, Mommy?"

"Loved it." She said, stroking Julia's cheek.

After greeting and shaking hands with the director and choreographer, the three walked to their car hand-in-hand and Hannibal and Clarice often exchanged glances of pride and happiness over their daughter's head. Clarice had decided to sit in the back with Julia, who lay in her arms and examined her mother's emerald earrings, humming to the tune of the music playing from the stereo. At one time she placed an ear to her mother's belly and listened.

At their home in central London, Julia enjoyed her favourite film with her parents before bed-time, _Sleeping Beauty_. She rested her head on her mother's chest and her feet on her father's lap, jigging and bouncing along to the music until she fell into a slumber half-way through the film, her breathing soft and muffled and body limp.

"I'll put her to bed."

"I'll do it, darling." Hannibal spoke, taking his daughter's sleeping body into his arms.

He entered Julia's bedroom, the pink butterflies hanging from the ceiling swaying as the door opened. With one arm holding his daughter's tiny body, he pulled her pink bed covers back with the other arm, and set Julia down in bed, her face pink and soft, eyes closed and hair a little messy. He brought the covers up to her neck and stroked a cheek with his palm, ridding her skin of strands of dark hair. He kissed her forehead and whispered.

"Goodnight, my sleeping beauty."

Hannibal turned to see his wife leaning on the door frame, smiling at the scene. As Hannibal walked to her, she reached over and flicked the light switch, the glow-in-the-dark stars shimmering all over the ceiling and walls when the room was immersed in darkness. They left her door a little open and went into the library where Hannibal had opened a Chateau Petrus, recently acquired from France at a little over a thousand dollars. Clarice approached her husband who handed her a glass with his curious grace hanging over his face.

"I think we did well."

Hannibal sipped. "In what?"

"Raising Julia."

He nodded. "It's not over yet."

She sighed with a smile. "And we have to do it all over again soon."

"It's nothing we can't handle." He said, smiling back.

Clarice took his wine glass and set them both down on the table before Hannibal took her into his arms. "Are you happy?"

He spoke into her hair. "More than I ever dreamed of being."

"Really?"

"Yes. Are you?"

She nestled into him a little. "The happiest I have ever been."

"Good, that's all that matters to me."

She sighed. "Can't you take the day off tomorrow and stay in with us?"

"I wish that I could but we have a busy day tomorrow, they're opening a new collection."

Clarice closed her eyes for a moment. "You know there was a mugging there the other day, near the Museum."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'm thinking of starting Julia on self-defense soon."

Hannibal nodded. "Starting her early will give her the best chance. I can teach her how to use a harpy."

"Are you kidding?" she asked with a frown. "I'll have my daughter using nothing but Sig-Sauers and Glocks."

Hannibal smiled and kissed Clarice's forehead before squeezing her tighter and whispering in his metallic rasp. "That's my girl."

After just one more glass of wine and a slow dance, the couple decided to retire to their bed, four-poster and draped with rich red material, standing tall in the room a couple of doors away from Julia's bedroom. Hannibal walked with his had clutching his wife's, up the vast staircase and into their room.

We will depart from them now as they lie embracing beneath the covers, as their lips meet in passion as they did every night, as their daughter sleeps tranquilly a few rooms away with her pink butterflies swaying above her and her stars shining down on her, as the breeze whistles a tune for the trees to sing along to and as the moon showers the streets of London in a milky glow. We will leave them to live a peaceful life, one which will always hold the fearful sting of the past, but one which will never cease to be whole and complete in the winding journey that is the future.

* * *

A/N: That's it, that is the end of _That's My Girl_. I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourite and followed this fic, it was my first one and the support that I received was unbelievable. I would like to thank my friends to supported me through writing it too. I hold a sadness in my heart at leaving Hannibal and Clarice in this fic but I am not done with them yet! I regret leaving them after only twenty chapters but we can only learn so much and live, so I must. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it and I hope that you will give my other fic a read. Sorry for such a wait for the last chapter, I had a little trouble with ideas, but I finally settled on his one. Hope you liked it. Drop me a review if you can, let me know what you think of this fic. And again, thank you all very much! :)


End file.
